memento vivere
by hashire
Summary: Kanda/Lenalee. 27. Concerns of punishment, hints of trust, and a short conversation in a long, dark hallway. Yet another sketchish thing.
1. tabula rasa

Standard disclaimers apply here.

**Note: **This is a collection of short, mostly unconnected one-shots. They're under one heading because I intend to write a lot of them and don't want to spam the page. The prompts are taken from all over the place, but this isn't for a writing challenge. _memento vivere_ means "a reminder of life/remember that you have to live/remember to live/etc." I've been wanting to change the title for awhile, and I just liked this.

Prompt: blank slate.

Post-war. _tabula rasa _means "blank slate" in Latin. The idea here is that they're in a remote French village (unnamed because it was too difficult to choose one and to know how small they are); also, that Tiedoll taught them French at some point (I like to think he did teach Kanda some French). The French is there because it was part of the inspiration, past the initial imaging of them moving to the village. Also, it's an attempt to be authentic...I guess. I put the translations after for easier reading. Thanks to Cat for helping and putting up with my incessant questions. (Excuse the overuse of pronouns. The semicolons are from reading Jane Eyre. I tend to incorporate bits of the writing style of what I'm reading into what I'm writing.) Feedback would be lovely.

* * *

_tabula rasa_

"D'où venez-vous?" (_Where are you from?_) It was the third time that day someone had asked them that. It wasn't surprising, since they had come into the town suddenly and hadn't ventured out of their small house much until now.

"De nulle part," (_Nowhere_) was his terse reply. The woman wasn't put off like the other two were by this response. She stared at him and waited for a different, better answer.

"Nous prenons un nouveau départ," (_We're making a fresh start_) Lenalee explained with a smile, and the woman nodded at that, somewhat satisfied. She paused, thinking of what she wanted to ask next.

"Vous êtes-vous enfouis?" (_Did you elope?_) She shifted uncomfortably at this; admitting they weren't married when they were living together would surely reflect badly on them…but what was there to say?

"On n'est pas mariés." (_We're not married._) Kanda answered for her with an absolute lack of finesse. So much for that. She sighed and chanced a look at the woman they had been speaking to; she appeared to be middle aged, with a few streaks of silver in her dark hair and lines on her forehead and around her eyes. Said eyes were wide at that moment, and she looked quite scandalized.

"Mais…vous vivez ensemble." (_But…you live together._) Lenalee didn't know what to say in response. She couldn't deny that; they had been in that house together for a few weeks, each venturing out separately when need called for it. Today was the first time they left the little home together.

"Occupe-toi de tes affaires." (_Mind your own business._) Again, Kanda had a short, rude reply. Lenalee turned to him and glared. He had scared away the previous two people who had tried to talk to them, and now there was this.

"Didn't I tell you to keep yourself in check?" She lapsed into English because it was her familiar scolding medium. "I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, and you told me you would watch yourself." He looked resolutely away and she wanted to yell at him but didn't want to make a scene.

"Why do you care what she thinks?" he responded to her quietly, still staring at the mountains in the distance. Lenalee glanced over at the woman in question, who appeared bewildered; it seemed that she didn't understand English.

"I'm not sure I do," she admitted, but then said, "En fait, nous sommes mariés." (_Actually, we are married._) Kanda looked back at her, surprised at this announcement. The woman let out a breath, relieved for some reason. This was not enough to completely get rid of her, of course.

"Où sont vos alliances?" (_Where are your wedding rings?_) Kanda became more irritated as the discussion of this subject continued.

"Chez moi," (_At home_) he snapped, and instead of waiting for the woman to say, "Je voudrais les voir," (_I would like to see them_) as she most likely would have, he grabbed Lenalee's arm and dragged her away. She pulled it out of his grasp after a few steps, frowning at him.

"Pardon!" (_Sorry!_) she called over her shoulder to the woman who had been asking them so many questions. The woman didn't seem to know what to say or do, but as they moved farther away, Lenalee heard her call a name and knew what she was going to talk about.

Her mood, which had been good when they left the house that morning, darkened. He said and did nothing, neither lifting nor worsening her disposition. They were not bothered much anymore the rest of that day; people sensed her irritation and chose not to approach them. This only upset her more, because they hadn't come out to avoid people. She knew that Kanda kept looking over at her, but she never returned his gaze; it was because of him that she had to attempt to smooth things over, but in the end he ruined that as well. So much for making a good first impression.

When they returned home, Lenalee immediately went into the bedroom and slammed the door. Alone with her thoughts, she went over the day's events; frustration ebbed and flowed inside of her, and tears joined the cycle after awhile.

_His idea. His choice. Everything about this is _his._ He keeps screwing it up, even though it was his idea. But…I agreed. I wanted to do this, too. I have nothing but _this_ now. _

She was aware of noise in the kitchen, but paid little attention to it.

Later, the door opened and Kanda walked in, carrying a tray with two bowls on it. Lenalee had been reclining on the bed at that point, almost asleep, stripped down to her underwear. This made him pause for a moment, but he collected his thoughts quickly and continued into the room. She enjoyed the effect she had on him, though she knew if she had caught him in a similar state, her reaction wouldn't have been much different.

"What is that?" she asked, eyeing the steaming bowls. She had been hungry but didn't want to leave the room; she had still been mad. When he strode in, however, it all seemed to disappear, despite her best efforts to stay angry with him. (The fact that he brought her food may have helped, just a little.)

"Soup." She tried to give him a look of exasperation but couldn't keep the smile off her face; she found it amusing for some reason. He set the tray down and left the room, but came back immediately with two large slices of bread. He returned to the bedside table where the soup sat, still steaming, and handed her a bowl (which she set aside because it was so hot) and piece of bread. After doing this, he took the other bowl and got on the bed beside her.

"We shouldn't eat in bed." She made no move to get up.

"Why?" He had already torn a chunk out of the bread and dipped it in the soup.

"There will be crumbs everywhere." Nonetheless, she followed suit.

"Then we'll take the sheets and shake them out." Again Lenalee tried to look stern but ended up laughing. There was something near amusement on Kanda's face as well, and she felt content.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said, blowing on her soup; how could he be eating it when it was so hot? He didn't say anything, just shrugged. She knew he had accepted the apology. He didn't offer one in return, but she figured the food he brought was meant to serve that purpose. She continued, "It wasn't really important what she thought, but this is such a small village that it's best not to give the wrong impression to anyone."

"Why does it matter what other people think?" This question was directed at the wall, which he had been staring at while they spoke.

She tried to choose her words carefully. "We came here to get a new start, yes? But we can't rely solely on each other forever. That is to say," (the scowl he was giving the wall was very unpleasant) "there should be other people in our lives. Friends are important; you know how I feel about that. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life here with you, but I need friends, too."

Kanda turned to Lenalee with an expression on his face that she could not place. For as long as they had been there, they hadn't said anything like that, though it was a given. It hadn't even been uttered when he'd asked her to come away with him now that the war was over, he had sorted his _problems_ out, and she had no home (because that had been the Order, and the building no longer stood) or family (her brother had disappeared shortly before everything had settled down; she liked to think he was still out there somewhere, but there had been no sign of him for months before they left, and surely if he was alive he wouldn't have abandoned her).

"Fine," he muttered at length, turning back to his cooling soup. She didn't know what he had been referring to when he said that, but decided it was meant as a response to everything. In return, she set her soup aside again, made sure it wouldn't be upset when she moved, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. The slight blush that bloomed there in reaction to it made her smile once more, and she sat back, taking her soup bowl and placing it in her lap.

En fait, il n'y avait aucun autre endroit où elle aurait préféré être. (_In fact, there was nowhere else she would rather be._)


	2. The Monster in the Room

Standard disclaimers apply here.

prompt: insomnia

Very dialogue-heavy, but I had the most fun with that. The name is taken from the idiom "the elephant in the room," though there's no underlying meaning. I have a nine-year-old cousin so I tried to imagine her saying some of the words, but...well, she's not a typical nine-year-old. (She hangs her dolls [because they "like it," not because she wants to hurt them], took a screwdriver to bed [or some sort of wrench; she liked the noise it made], and once put tape over her mouth and one eye and gave my aunt [her mom] a note that said, "Should I take it off? Circle yes or no.") Feedback would be lovely. The next update might not be for a bit because I've been neglecting my schoolwork, but I'll be writing when I can and will probably finish something soon.

* * *

_The Monster in the Room_

The halls of the Order, spacious and airy during the day, felt ominous at night.

Lenalee couldn't stay in her room. She didn't want to leave her room because of the darkness that stood beyond it. She wanted to sleep – _oh_, how she wanted to sleep – but couldn't.

Instead of waiting for the monsters in the shadows of her room to get her, she threw open her door and ran into the hall, now at the mercy of the monsters that surely loomed near the ceiling at night. She put her head down and moved faster, her footfalls echoing off the walls – no, they would wake up and take her back there.

Lenalee slowed down. The slight noise from her feet – she was barefoot and freezing but it was better than the pain from the Dark Boots – still came back to her, but she felt reassured that no monster – or human – would come after her.

The kitchens were locked when she went there, but she wasn't hungry anyway. She knew she couldn't try to escape; the doors out would be bolted, and she couldn't reach that high, even with her hateful Innocence activated - she wouldn't connect with it, and it refused to help her because of that.

As she wandered, a clock somewhere struck midnight. So late. She still didn't think she could fall asleep.

Finally, she found herself by the training room, and was surprised to hear noise inside. The door was ajar, so she pushed it a little to see better, but didn't open it.

_Oh_. It was that – boy. What was his name? He had been there for a full week and had barely spoken to her. His General told her that he was just tired the first day they were there, and had given her a sweet. The sweet was long gone now, and he was still snappish.

It might have had something to do with the fact that she called him a girl. She couldn't help it – he _was_ girly-looking.

Lenalee frowned as she thought, and didn't realize the boy had stopped what he was doing and was coming toward her until the door was yanked open. She cried out in surprise, stepped back, tripped, and landed on her bottom.

Out of sheer frustration, exhaustion, the pain she felt, and embarrassment, she started to cry. He had been standing in the door, sword propped on his shoulder, but it was clear he didn't know what to do in that situation.

Lenalee brushed away her tears as fast as they came but more fell in their place. She was always crying, it seemed, but for some reason now she couldn't stop.

"H-hey," he finally said, unsure of what to do. He had never dealt with a crying girl before, but he had a feeling that his General, who was annoying enough as it was, would somehow find out if he left her here in the hall and scold him. "Are you…"

"No, I'm not alright," she snapped before he could finish his question. "I'm so tired but I can't sleep. I want to go home. And you've never been nice to me." She added in the last thing accusingly, and he scowled. "I thought we would be friends," she told him with a sob. He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. She just cried and cried.

"Why?"

"Wh-what?" Her voice wavered from the tears.

"Why did you th…want to be friends?" For some reason those words came out of his mouth; he was going to ask her why she thought they would be friends, but instead he said that.

"B-because."

"Because why?"

"_Because_." It seemed like a good enough response to her. He didn't appear to agree.

"_Because why_?"

"_Because_," she repeated with the same emphasis, looking him in the eye. He met her gaze with a glare, but she didn't seem affected by it. In fact, her tears were slowly stopping.

"Whatever," he finally snapped, turning around. He started to walk away, but she scrambled to stand up.

"Wait!"

"_What_?"

"Why are you up so late training?" He continued walking, but she fell in step next to him, still sniffling a bit.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, trying to walk faster, but she kept up.

"I couldn't either," she said, somehow pleased that they had something in common.

"You already said that."

"Well, it's still true." She would not be put off, no matter what he said. He stopped and she stumbled as she tried to stop with him.

"What do you want?" he demanded, wanting to get rid of her and go to bed.

"I want to be friends," she responded, not budging. "I told you that already."

"I meant _now_," he clarified, continuing to scowl.

"I was looking for something to do – "

"At midnight?"

"_You _were training."

"That's different."

"No it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"Ye – I'm not going to do that." He crossed his arms and she did the same.

"_Anyway_, I was looking for something to do because I couldn't sleep – "

"_You said that already_."

"And the monsters in my room were going to get me," she finished, ignoring his interruption. He stared at her for a moment, then snorted.

"Akuma are the only monsters that exist," he told her loftily, "and there aren't any of those in your room."

"Nuh-uh, there are monsters in my room."

"You're stupid."

"No I'm not!"

"Be quiet." They were near some other exorcists' rooms, and he didn't want anyone to wake up and scold them – him. Why did he care if they scolded her or not? "Fine," he said, giving in, "I'll show you that there aren't any monsters in your room."

"You'll see – you're wrong."

"I am not!" he snapped, but before she could respond, he began stomping away. After a few steps he stopped and turned back to her, an irritated expression on his face. "Where is your room?"

"Downstairs."

They descended the stairs together, and he flicked on the light when they got to her room.

"See? There's nothing in here."

"They only come out in the dark." He let out an exasperated sigh.

"There aren't any monsters in my room, so there aren't any in yours," he told her, and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"There aren't monsters in your room?" She apparently hadn't heard the second half of what he said.

"Of course not."

"Then can I stay in your room?" He stared at her for a few moments.

"No."

"Why not?" Her eyes started filling with tears again.

"Because."

"Because why?"

"_Because_."

He stormed away before it could go on, but heard footsteps behind him and whipped around. "Go back to your own room!"

At that, she did start to cry again. "Why are you so mean?" He had no response; it was his nature, and he didn't know any other way to be.

"_Fine_," he said, and she didn't seem to understand. "You can stay in my room!" he snapped, and she flinched at his tone but gazed up at him.

"Really?"

"As long as you shut up." She pouted.

"You shut up."

"What?"

"I said you should shut up." He gritted his teeth.

"Hurry up before I change my mind." At that she moved quickly to catch up with him.

Once they reached the room, she went in and looked around, then nodded. "There aren't any monsters in here," she concluded. He told her to wait in the hall while he changed, but she didn't want to leave again, so he grabbed her shoulders and moved her so her nose was almost touching the wall. He warned her not to turn around or he'd kick her out, so she stayed where she was until he made a noise to indicate he was dressed again.

After hearing this, she scrambled into the bed. He started to say something, but she stopped him.

"I'm not going to sleep on the floor," she informed him, pulling back the covers, "and neither are you. There _might_ be monsters under the bed, and if you're on the floor they'll get you."

He got into the bed beside her because he didn't feel like arguing; he was too tired at that point. He tried to stay away, but it proved to be pointless because she moved up next to him anyway. She murmured something he didn't understand, and thought of her brother, so far away; she used to get into his bed at night when she had nightmares. This wasn't different, was it?

"Oh," she murmured when they were both almost asleep; she felt comfortable and relaxed for the first time in…she couldn't remember how long. Certainly for as long as she had been there. "By the way, what's your name?"


	3. and indeed there will be time

Standard disclaimers apply here. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You're all amazing.

These are all excerpts from poems which are identified at the end. Also, these don't go in order (i.e. the April is not set in the same year as the March, so they don't directly follow one another despite the fact that they're listed in order) because I like the nonlinear style. I also couldn't really write something where they were going on mission after mission together because that's just not realistic. More notes at the bottom.

* * *

_and indeed there will be time_

_Unreal City,  
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,  
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,  
I had not thought death had undone so many._

March. Their breath steamed in the early morning air. People bustled back and forth in front of them, on the bridge where _things_ had been happening.

A laugh to his right. He looked and found Lenalee rubbing her hands together. It certainly was cold. Before he could say anything, she spoke. "I suppose we didn't get here early enough." She cupped her hands and blew into them, trying in vain to force warmth into her chilled flesh.

"There are always people on the bridge," piped up the Finder behind them. He had been there for the past few days and had been keeping an eye on it. Never had he seen it completely deserted, but _things_ only happened when was no one was there.

"Oh. Well, what should we do?" Both turned to Kanda, who was staring at the structure in question. He was silent for awhile, thinking about what they could do.

"We'll wait." Lenalee frowned.

"But he just said that there are always people on it." He glanced at her, now trying to pull her hands into her sleeves. He almost reached out and took them in his to warm them. Almost. He then processed what she said.

"There won't be as many people on it at night," he stated, turning away. She didn't respond for a few moments. It always had pedestrian traffic, but what else could they do? It would probably be weeks before they'd find a day where no one was crossing the bridge.

"All right," she replied at length. "Could we at least go inside? I don't think it's necessary to watch the bridge from here, is it?" She shivered, hands in her sleeves now.

All things considered, he couldn't say no to that.

_"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;_  
_"They called me the hyacinth girl."_  
_–Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,_  
_Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not_  
_Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither_  
_Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,_  
_Looking into the heart of light, the silence._  
_Oed' und leer das Meer._

April. The sun was out and warm, though the air was still cool.

Lenalee usually wasn't one to get sidetracked, but they came across a field full of flowers, and she stopped.

Kanda didn't realize she had until he turned to say something to her and found that she wasn't next to him anymore. Spinning around, he found her wading into the grass and plucking flowers here and there. She took long, careful steps to avoid crushing any of the plants around her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded when she reached her. She looked up with a smile, a blossom stuck in her hair just above her right pigtail. She was cradling at least a dozen of the flowers in her arms, trying not to press them against her.

"These don't grow near the Order, and the woman we talked to earlier said the season for them is almost over." She bounced over to him and tucked a flower behind his ear before he could react and protest. She then walked away from the field of hyacinths, humming as she carried them with her. He stood there for a moment before pulling the blossom out from behind his ear. He briefly examined it before following her.

Lenalee ended up scattering most of them as they walked because it was impossible to keep carrying an armful of flowers. Kanda thought it was a waste. Ignoring, of course, the one flower that was most likely getting crushed in his pocket; the one that she had put behind his ear.

When they arrived in the little town he knew she noticed it was gone but didn't ask about it; she must have assumed that he had thrown it away. He said nothing to imply that he hadn't.

It really wasn't important. She gave it to him, but it was just a flower, after all.

_A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,  
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,  
And the dry stone no sound of water.  
_

May. They had to travel through the Arabian desert. There was no way around it and no faster way to their destination. They found a small town and were able to stock up on water the first day, but after that, it was open sand.

All the water was gone on the second day. Fortunately they were almost there, but Lenalee was swaying back and forth, back and forth.

Kanda caught her as she stumbled and quickly realized she was dehydrated. He cursed the fact that they hadn't brought enough water. He cursed the desert sun. He cursed their uniforms for being so heavy and causing them to sweat that much more.

He cursed himself for not paying closer attention, even though he wouldn't have been able to do anything to help her before she fainted.

Night was falling and it was getting cold. He carried her a good distance before encountering a nomadic tribe setting up camp. The men eyed him warily but the women saw Lenalee, and they spoke rapidly in a language he couldn't understand.

Thankfully, they allowed them to stay with them for the night and gave them some of their water. One of them spoke English well enough and told them there was a shortcut. Lenalee slept and woke up the next morning feeling better, but she still needed more fluids than what they could give her.

They reached Riyadh that day, where Lenalee received more care. Kanda somewhat unwillingly went about the mission; he didn't entirely want to leave her, but they had been sent out there for a reason.

"I'm sorry," she said when she joined him the next day.

"Don't," he told her, and she seemed surprised.

"What?"

"Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault." He looked down the street and thought about how hot it was.

"All right. Let's go." Cheerfully. Like herself. He must have been getting sunburned because his face felt warm.

They didn't mention it in the report because she was fine when they got back, and she didn't want to worry her brother. Kanda didn't forget about it for a long time.

_Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee  
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,  
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,  
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour._

June. Miranda accompanied them to Munich.

It was on the morning of the sixth that they stopped at a café for breakfast. Halfway through the meal Lenalee set down her cup. Miranda and Kanda turned to her as she did this, both surprised at the loud _clunk_ they heard when the cup hit the table.

"Kanda," she said suddenly.

"What?" Warily. He wasn't sure about that look on her face.

"It's your birthday today, isn't it?" She remembered, then.

"So?" She ignored that.

"I can't believe I forgot. Oh, well. It's not too late. What would you like for your birthday?"

"I don't – " He couldn't finish his sentence because there was a loud bang outside, followed by another. Akuma.

The subject didn't come up again because they were busy the rest of the day. Despite all the fighting, Akuma, and interviews, they still hadn't found anything.

Kanda thought Lenalee had forgotten about the whole thing again until they were retiring to their rooms that night. She said his name before he could go into his and shut the door.

She walked over to him, touched his arm so he would turn around, and kissed his cheek. "Happy birthday," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you anything."

"It's fine," he muttered, pivoting and going into his room. He didn't know what else to do.

He heard her sigh just before he shut the door, but couldn't figure out what the cause might be. His actions were contradicting his true feelings, but certainly that couldn't have been what made her sigh like that. He dismissed it immediately because it seemed impossible.

_Who is the third who walks always beside you?  
When I count, there are only you and I together  
But when I look ahead up the white road  
There is always another one walking beside you  
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded  
I do not know whether a man or a woman  
—But who is that on the other side of you?_

July. Back in the Order. No missions to be sent on at the moment.

Kanda was outside in the woods. It was early morning, just before it got too warm. Perfect for training alone, better than the training room.

Their shadows preceded them. He knew who it was before they spoke.

"Good morning, Kanda," Lenalee greeted him, out of her uniform, still wearing a skirt. He gave a nod in response. The bean sprout said something he ignored. She didn't look happy about that, but said nothing of it. "We were just about to go for a walk; would you like to come with us?"

"I'm busy," he responded. It was obvious what he was busy doing, so he didn't elaborate. Her frown deepened.

"Please? I'd really like it if you'd join us," she told him. He turned away. He knew that she would get that _look_ in her eyes and he couldn't say no to it.

"I can't," he replied firmly, and heard an exasperated sigh behind him.

"All right, fine." She was irritated with him now. "Let's go, Allen." The two left Kanda there, alone with his thoughts.

He probably should have said yes. He should have said yes. But he didn't need to be the audience for Lenalee and the bean sprout's flirting. He didn't want to see that.

They came back around as the morning was ending. Kanda was finally going in. Lenalee hooked her arm in Allen's and pulled him so they could catch up. When they reached Kanda, she did the same.

"Let's go inside," she suggested with a smile he couldn't refuse, even though they had all been headed that way anyway. He didn't try to remove her arm from his.

It was the closest she would get to having him to take a walk with them now, but she didn't seem to mind.

_"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.  
"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.  
"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?  
"I never know what you are thinking. Think."_

August. Her brother was away for some reason. Kanda never really paid attention to the reason why he was.

Lenalee was on edge. She had been fine for the year since her brother had been there, but now that he was gone (for a week), she wasn't as calm.

"Kanda," she said the second day, "do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep?"

_Yes_. "No," he responded. He wasn't sure why he didn't give an affirmative answer, but it seemed better to not tell her. Saying yes probably wouldn't have had a positive outcome, he felt, so he said nothing else.

"Oh. I do." Obviously. "Would you…mind if I stayed with you tonight?" She hadn't crawled into his bed in a long time, but she'd never asked before. She would just come into his room and climb in. Why was she asking now?

_Yes...No...how was he supposed to respond to this?_ "Fine," he muttered after a pause. It was easier than yes or no.

When Lenalee smiled brightly at him (despite those dark circles around her eyes), Kanda didn't regret saying yes. She hadn't smiled like that since her brother left, though it had only been two days.

He wasn't too happy about her new habit of kicking, though. If he didn't heal so quickly, he would have had bruises on his legs. He didn't tell her this because she most definitely would have been upset about that fact that she had been doing it. Not that she would have been able to control it if he did tell her.

"Thank you," she said at the end of the week, going back to her own bed the night before her brother came back. She slept soundly that night, he knew, because she didn't come back to his bed again.

It had only been five straight days that she had been curling up with his bed with him, but Kanda had already gotten used to it. He somehow missed having her there, kicking and all. He then felt like an idiot and forced himself to not think about it. Not think about it. _Not think about it_.

_By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand,  
Lonely from the beginning of time until now!  
Trees fall, the grass goes yellow with autumn.  
I climb the towers and towers  
to watch out the barbarous land:  
Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert.  
There is no wall left to this village._

September. Higher and higher they went as they ascended the stairs to survey the damage. They only just arrived and it was already like this.

It was bleak, to say the least. There was no movement for a long time. Suddenly, the Akuma flew at them and they were on the ground again.

It taunted them. Told them it found and destroyed the Innocence. Laughed as it described how it killed everyone. Shrieked as Kanda sliced it in half when it wasn't paying attention. What a stupid Level 2.

Lenalee stood there after they were finished, looking around at the empty town. She kept glancing this way and that, trying to find something. Maybe movement. Maybe something that he couldn't fathom. Who knew.

"Are you all right?" he asked her, unsettled by the blank expression on her face. She turned to him, startled that he spoke. Startled that he was there. She had forgotten he was with her. She felt so alone.

"Yes," she said, pushing her hair back out of her face. Her bangs were getting too long. "Yes," she repeated with a forced smile, "I'm fine."

He didn't believe her. There was nothing to be done at the moment, however. So he just walked back toward her; the train station was that direction, after all. He'd probably have to gently push her to leave. This wouldn't be easy.

She surprised him this time. When he got close enough, Lenalee reached out, grabbed the front of his coat, and pulled him to her.

"Kiss me," she all but ordered him, and he wanted to oblige her (oh how he wanted to do it), but she wasn't _all right_ and (probably) wasn't thinking straight. He moved to try to pry her hands from his coat and say something to the effect of "no" when she decided to not wait for a response and did it herself.

A dry wind sauntered up and whispered to them, and he was frozen.

She pulled back after he didn't respond at all and let go of his jacket. "All right. Let's go." She glanced away, contemplating the silence they were immersed in.

Kanda's arm shot out and yanked her back when she started to take a step away. He finally did what she asked, and the wind wrapped around them as they stood in an empty village full of death, kissing like they needed to in order to live.

_Fourmillante cité, cité pleine de rêves,  
Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant!  
Les mystères partout coulent comme des sèves  
Dans les canaux étroits du colosse puissant._

October. The rain fell heavily. They had to find umbrellas before they could do anything. They also had to walk apart so the umbrellas didn't knock into each other.

It was difficult, finding information. People had plenty of stories to tell. At the end of the tales, however, when they asked where they heard it, every single person said it had been passed down through the years.

They stood on a corner. Kanda was becoming more and more irritated. Lenalee was spinning her umbrella and considering what they'd heard so far.

"Do you think – " she started, but was cut off.

"They're all worthless." He was scowling, but he stopped when he turned to her.

Lenalee did not appear happy at all, but it wasn't because of the mission, he knew. He didn't mean to snap, but that was going to be his response regardless of what she said (and he was more than a little frustrated). He muttered an apology and averted his eyes. She didn't speak for a few moments.

"Well," she said, not sounding annoyed in the least, "should we get some lunch or go talk to more people?" The answer was obvious: it was nearly noon and they had eaten breakfast at seven.

As luck would have it, the small restaurant they went to gave them the information that they needed. On the train ride back, Lenalee fidgeted a little, toying with the ends of her pigtails and looking at him every so often.

He finally asked her "what is it?" and she started to say something but stopped herself. An uncertain expression settled on her features, but it cleared, and she smiled.

"Never mind," she told him. "It's not really that important."

Despite himself, Kanda spent the rest of the ride back wondering what she might have been about to say, even if it was unimportant.

_All the complicated details  
of the attiring and  
the disattiring are completed!  
A liquid moon  
moves gently among  
the long branches._

November. He should have been asleep, but instead Kanda was out training.

When a twig snapped nearby, he spun around, not sure what to expect. And of course he didn't expect Lenalee to be standing there in her nightgown, looking tired and cold.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked her, sheathing Mugen for the time being. He couldn't quite concentrate on training when she was around (missions were something else entirely). Not to mention the fact that she was probably going to purposefully distract him anyway.

"What are _you_ doing out here?" she echoed, hands on her hips. "I was so worried when I found your room empty." The bare tree branches swayed in the night wind.

"Why were you in my room?" He was curious rather than irritated, for whatever reason. He should probably be concerned about his privacy possibly being invaded, but that mattered less than why she was there.

"I, uh…" She trailed off, gazing at her feet. "I had a bad dream," she told them. Her hair was in disarray; he could tell that she had been tossing and turning in her sleep by its state.

Kanda should have told her to act her age (she was almost fifteen now, she should be able to handle her nightmares), or to go talk to her brother about it. He should have told her to go back to bed and gone back to training. He should have done a lot of things.

What he did do was sigh and walk toward her. She glanced up at him as he neared her but he didn't stop.

"Are you coming or not?" he called over his shoulder as his steps took him farther away. He heard her move quickly to catch up.

Soon his bed would probably be too small for them to sleep in it together (_ignore the implications, ignore the implications, ignore the implications,_ he repeated in his head), but he wasn't going to refuse her just yet.

_Winter kept us warm, covering  
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding  
A little life with dried tubers._

December. It didn't often snow where they were, but that year it had. The whole Order had gone insane over a little frozen water.

Lenalee dragged Kanda out with her as the snowball fight began.

"Come on," she'd said, "it'll be fun."

Fun. Right. He saw the look on her face when Allen threw a snowball at him. It hit him just below his neck, high up on his chest. Allen appeared triumphant for a moment and it was obvious by Lenalee's expression that she wished she hadn't dragged him out.

"Really," she scolded later, tending to Allen's bloody nose (_that _had been an accident), "it was supposed to be _fun_." The two being admonished didn't speak. Kanda really wanted to get out of the wet clothes he was wearing. Lenalee seemed to have more to say (she had been reprimanding them this whole time), so he waited.

"Thank you, Lenalee," Allen said, smiling as his nose had stopped dripping blood.

"You're welcome, Allen," she responded, smiling in return. Kanda pushed off the wall.

"Are we done now?" He was fine with listening to Lenalee lecture him (she had been doing it for years), but he didn't see any reason why he should sit through that.

"I-I guess so," Lenalee replied, bewildered. He left immediately. "What was that all about?" she muttered, balling up and tossing the bloody gauze she was holding into the garbage.

"Who knows?" She didn't ask because she wanted an answer, though all Allen gave her was another question. Lenalee went to wash her hands.

"Let's go," she said finally, once her hands were clean. She didn't see Kanda for the rest of the day.

_Again I reply to the triple winds  
running chromatic fifths of derision  
outside my window:  
Play louder._

January. The wind rattled the windows. Kanda glanced away from the book he was reading to find Lenalee watching it. She had a novel open in her lap and was toying with the corner of a page, but she wasn't paying attention to it.

He turned and considered the window. It was shaking and making noise, but it wasn't really that distracting.

"Lenalee?" She jumped a little at the sound of her name.

"Hmm? What is it?" He frowned. She picked up and shut the book and stood to tend to the fire.

"Why were you staring at the window?" She paused for only a second, but followed through with what she was doing.

"I was just thinking about something." She didn't elaborate. He watched her as she sat back down, pulled a blanket around her, and took up the book again. She stared down at it, but he knew she wasn't reading.

"About what?" he finally asked her.

"You," she stated, turning a page, still pretending to read.

"…me?" She nodded, her bangs moving and hiding her eyes. "Why?"

Lenalee sighed and shut the book. She looked at him for a long time, and Kanda held her gaze. After awhile, she broke their eye contact and turned to the window again. "Never mind."

He wanted to demand she say why, but it seemed that she meant for him to figure it out. No more words were exchanged until she got up to leave, and all she said was good night.

He echoed it quietly, and spent the rest of the night trying to put thoughts of that conversation out of his mind. Thinking about it too much would do no good.

It didn't work.

_I heard, and down the street  
The lonely trees in the square  
Stood in the winter wind  
Patient and bare._

February. Lenalee was cold.

It was almost her birthday. Her brother had apologized profusely for sending her on a mission so close to it, but she had a feeling that it was intentional. They were probably planning something.

She would thank them for it, of course, and she would enjoy it, indeed, but she didn't ask for it and didn't think such a huge party was necessary. Assuming that it would be as big as she expected it, which it probably would be, based on last year and knowing her brother.

The city was deserted, but Kanda was by her side.

They hadn't spoken about what happened last September. They hadn't even spoken about it then. She wished they would, but every time it seemed like she was about to say something about it, he would look away and change the subject.

It didn't make any sense. Then again, he wasn't an easy person to understand. Over a year ago she had tried to say something but couldn't. She tried to imply it instead, but it didn't work.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him, pushing those thoughts out of her head. She glanced over at him and he was still staring down the street.

"I don't know," he replied after awhile. They couldn't find anyone or anything around. They found the inn in the evening and discovered that the rooms were perfectly clean, with the beds properly made and nothing out of place.

Lenalee shivered. "This place is too creepy. I don't want to stay in a room alone tonight," she informed Kanda. She almost expected him to say no.

"Fine," was all he said in response. They couldn't find any rooms with two beds, however, and he was a bit agitated when they had to settle in a room with one large bed.

"What's the matter?" she finally asked, noticing how stiff he was.

"Nothing," he snapped, finding the wall very interesting. She frowned, marched over to where he sat at the table, and grabbed his chin.

"No, you're going to tell me why you're acting so weird," she ordered. He had been acting odd this whole time, really. His expression showed nothing but irritation, but he wasn't glaring at her.

"There's nothing here," he stated shortly.

"…what?" She let go of his chin and took a step back.

"Komui sent us out here to this ghost town because they're doing something big for your birthday." He wouldn't say more.

That didn't help make sense of why the rooms here were like they were (perfectly fixed up), how her brother knew where this town was and that it was deserted, or why they had to be sent out in the first place.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did they have to send us out here on the pretense of a mission so they can do whatever they're doing for my birthday? I wish they wouldn't do so much…" She hadn't moved and was still a step away from him. He had no answer. "Why are you out here with me, anyway?"

"I volunteered."

"What?"

He fixed her with a look that said he wouldn't repeat himself; one that also said he knew she heard him. None of this made any sense.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, tired even though the clock hadn't struck nine. A hand grabbed her wrist and she was yanked toward him. She stumbled and almost knocked heads with Kanda, but she was able to stop short. "What are you doing? We could have gotten – "

She was interrupted by him grabbing her chin, much like she had just done, but instead of holding her there to speak directly to her, he kissed her.

_That_ she hadn't expected at all. Even with the memories of desert winds and unsettled minds, this came as a surprise.

Lenalee never thought she would be in a ghost town a few days before her birthday, in a hotel room that was perfectly clean and comfortable for the setting, kissing Kanda. Yet, as she pulled back but moved to sit in his lap, she knew this was paradise.

* * *

The poems are: _The Waste Land_ by T.S. Eliot (March-August, December); _The Lament of the Frontier Guard_ by Ezra Pound (September); _Les Sept vieillards_ by Charles Baudelaire (October); _Winter Trees _(November) and _January_ (obvious) by William Carlos Williams; _February_ by Sara Teasdale (obvious). The translation (from the Norton Anthology of English Literature) for "Oed' und leer das Meer" is "Waste and empty is the sea." The translation for _Les Sept vieillards_ is on fleursdumal . org. I don't really like any of the translations which is why they're not here, haha.

Other notes: The snowball fight is based on a card from the card game. The last line feels kind of lame, but I couldn't decide how to end this. Then I remembered a line from _High Windows_ by Philip Larkin and decided to use that. So that's where that's from. Anyway, feedback would be lovely~.


	4. 4

Standard disclaimers apply here.

prompt: silence in black and white

Warning! Character death.

Anyway, woo, I'm productive again. Usually I don't like it when things are under 1k words for some reason, but this is better short. Also lol depressing. And it's just he and she because I like being vague. :D This is meant to be set long after the current storyline, which wasn't explicitly stated in it. I can't settle on a title, so it's just 4. Anyway, feedback would be lovely~.

* * *

He opened his eyes. The sky was above him was white.

Humming. Faint, but coming closer.

He rolled his head to the left. He could barely move.

He saw more white: a dress that looked more like a nightgown. It fell to her knees and swished as she walked.

She knelt down next to him and carefully moved him so his head was on her lap.

"Is it over?" he asked, coughing harshly after. She placed her hand on his neck and he stopped. It was easier to breathe now.

"No."

"Then why am I here?"

She smiled and stroked his sweaty, bloodstained face. She didn't respond, but the answer was obvious enough.

"Why can't I stay dead?" He was frowning and she laughed a little, for some reason. He didn't understand but she didn't explain.

"You're still needed down there." His fist clenched but he said nothing. She began humming again; it was a song that she made up when they were children.

So this was real. He recognized it but never remembered the words or the tune. She always sang it on the nights she crawled into his bed. He was sure that even if his subconscious had tried to create some fake world where she was (because he missed her so much), he wouldn't have been able to reproduce it properly. That is, if his mind attempted to do that, but he never even thought of the song, so why would he imagine her humming it?

"Kanda," she said. He looked up at her as he was pulled from his thoughts. She was exactly how he remembered her: young, beautiful, her hair past her shoulders and bangs swept to the side. "It's time to go back."

He frowned. "I don't want to go back."

"You have to," she told him firmly. She somehow leaned down and kissed his forehead without moving him. It didn't make sense, but then again, she was an angel. She smiled once more. "I'm not an angel, Kanda. I'm a ghost in this in-between, waiting for everyone else."

He stared at her for a moment. "Do you know when –"

"I do, but I'm not going to tell you." She paused and gazed at the sky, sighing and causing a soft wind to blow. When she turned back to him, she looked sad. "Kanda," she said again, softly. Her lips moved but he couldn't hear what she said. Everything went dark.

"Yu? Hey, Yu!" Instead of Lenalee's calm, comforting voice, he heard Lavi as he opened his eyes. The sky was black. "Get up! We need your help!" he yelled desperately, fighting with a Noah.

So he did, thinking all the while of the girl in the white dress, wandering around in some sort of limbo, patiently waiting for them all.

Said girl stood and wiped the blood off her dress. It disappeared in an instant, and she turned, staring out at the vast wasteland that she created because she refused to go on alone. Why she was granted the power to bring them there, she didn't know, but she didn't question it.

She walked along, hopping over rocks that wouldn't hurt her feet. She began to sing the song she had been humming while he was here. It kept her company. She knew that he didn't hear her words before he disappeared. It didn't matter, though.

He'd be there again soon.


	5. The Glassmaker

Standard disclaimers apply here.

_Notes_: I couldn't decide what to do with this in terms of should I just replace _The Man in Black_ with this, or should I add it to the end? They're nothing alike, but that's the point. I decided to do the former because the point was to rewrite the first thing, even though deleting the chapter doesn't delete the reviews with it. Anonymous reviews are turned on, or leaving them on 20 works, too. I normally don't ask, but, well, I am this time around.

* * *

_The Glassmaker_

General Tiedoll took it upon himself to try to teach Kanda as much as he could as they traveled to the Main Branch. It ranged from general education to things he'd need to know to stay alive (or could at least use to help someone else stay alive), with plenty of training in between. Tiedoll attributed the lack of retention to the constant moving and changing setting, but Kanda just wasn't interested.

French entered into the lessons right before they arrived, and that was less successful than everything else. Tiedoll thought none of it stuck, but one word had.

He recited many things as they walked along, words and phrases and so on, but this one was repeated the most. He said it in different forms and even gestured to a man they came across, saying he made it. But it wasn't any of this that made Kanda remember the word _verre_.

One afternoon, they were crammed into a small train compartment. They shared it with a young couple, who spoke in hushed tones and ignored them, the man and little girl sitting in the opposite seats. Tiedoll glanced at the window, streaked with dirt and covered in fingerprints, and tapped it with a knuckle.

"_Le verre_," he said to Kanda; the boy looked over at it in time to see it shatter. The four of them were thrown back, and the couple was knocked unconscious. Tiedoll never let him fight in these situations, but when a smaller akuma sneaked past the large one the General faced, Kanda jumped up and pulled Mugen out. He saved the couple's lives, but that wasn't entirely his intention. Tiedoll was proud of him, and said something to him in French that he couldn't understand.

_Le verre_ should have left his mind like the blood washing out of his clothes, but it imprinted itself there and never left.

* * *

Kanda and the Main Branch didn't mix, but Lenalee refused to let him distance himself from it, like he had been trying to do. She didn't realize that he intended to stay separate from everyone (Marie was an exception), but it wouldn't have made a difference if she had.

"Kanda," she began one morning, but didn't finish. Her lips pressed together and she stared at Mugen, which he held in his hand. She often followed him when he did his training in the morning, but that day she seemed tense.

"What?" She jumped, like she had forgotten he was there, and glanced up at him. He felt the morning light warming the skin on his neck; his hair was long enough for him to tie it up again.

"Oh, um." She bit her lip, uncertain. He wanted to get back to his normal training exercises, but he knew she'd just interrupt him. "What...when you first – the first time you synchronized..." She kept stopping and starting, not sure how to ask what she wanted to. His expression was blank. She steeled herself and spat it out: "Mugen! What was it like, the first time you synchronized with Mugen?"

Kanda stared at her. He didn't want to tell her _that_. Furthermore, he wouldn't. But why would she ask? Lenalee looked up at his with earnest eyes, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell her to go away – she wouldn't, but he somehow couldn't say it either. Before he could articulate anything to answer her, she spoke.

"Never mind." She was sitting a few feet away from him, cross-legged, on the ground. Her hands gripped her knees and she slouched forward a little. "It's not really important." Her face tilted down as well, and a breeze passed between them. She shivered.

He might have demanded _Then why ask?_, but the door to the building jerked open, swinging inward. The Head Matron appeared, rigid and agitated.

"Lenalee!" she called, venturing outside into the cool morning. "What are you doing out here? And where's that jacket I gave you?"

The little girl gazed up at the woman. "It's in...my room." Her eyes begged the Matron let her stay outside. This was met with a stern frown, but then it softened a little. Lenalee didn't have to say anything for the Head Matron to relent.

"All right," the Matron said. "I'll go get it, but you're coming back inside when Kanda does." She turned to the boy and let the corners of her mouth turn down. "I'll be back in ten minutes."

Kanda's eyebrows drew together, and his irritation grew as the Head Matron walked away. She would be back to force him in when there was no reason for it. He turned to Lenalee, the source of the problem, but her head was down and her knees were curled to her chest. She had her arms wrapped around them, trying to make herself as small as possible.

With an exasperated sigh, he walked over to her. By the time he got back into his normal routine and rhythm, the Matron would be back. The girl remained still until he stood next to her, which caused her head to pop up.

"Kanda!" she cried, jumping to her feet and grabbing his hand. "We need to – to find you a new hair tie!" Lenalee nodded her head at this, agreeing with herself that this was a good plan. She started dragging him along, but he resisted.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, but no matter how he moved his arm, she wouldn't let go of his hand.

"I just said," she replied, and that seemed to satisfy her. As more hair slipped out of his ponytail, he had to admit she was right: he did need something else to tie up his hair. But why now?

They veered off to the left, and she dragged him through a door he'd never seen, just as the other one opened, and the Head Matron came back out. A tall figure followed her, and her fingers dug into the material of the jacket.

"Why, there's no one out here, Head Matron," the man said, adjusting a button on his coat and masking some of his irritation. "I don't appreciate having my time wasted."

"I apologize, Inspector Leverrier," she responded, loosening her grip on the coat and smoothing it over her arm, "but I didn't invite you to follow me." This made the man frown, and he took a step forward. The woman turned, but didn't flinch or move back. His eyes dropped to her arms.

"Do you often carry a child's coat with you?" Leverrier reached for it, but she moved it out of his reach without losing ground. He and his guards stood firm, but the Matron wasn't giving an inch either.

"When the weather permits."

The man was stiff as he stood in front of her, and his glare would have sent many cowering. The Matron gave him a cold look in return, and they battled without words for a few moments. Losing whatever patience he had left, he walked up to her and moved her aside. She didn't stop him, but the expression on her face made it clear that she wished she could. She knew she had no power.

Leverrier strode out into the courtyard, and another chilled breeze came through. The sun slipped behind a cloud and offered him no warmth as he scanned the area with sharp eyes.

* * *

The room could hardly be called that. They were so cramped inside of it and Kanda couldn't move so he wasn't touching her in some way. Lenalee didn't seem concerned about this. She stared at the wall, but her eyes appeared to be watching something far away. Her ear was pointed toward the door, and she seemed to be listening for something.

It became uncomfortable within seconds, and he moved, trying to get to the door. She grabbed him and turned the pleading look she gave the Matron on him. He narrowed his eyes.

"What are you –" Two little hands clapped over his mouth with more force than was necessary, but the hissing of her shushing him caught his attention more.

"_Quiet_," she whispered, glancing at the closed door like she could see out of it. _"_He'll_ hear you_." He couldn't ask who _he_ was because she didn't take her hands away. He reached for them and tried to tug them away, and her eyes took on a panicked light.

He managed to get them away, and she struggled but stopped when he muttered, "_Fine_." Her wrists felt so small in his hands, and he realized she was shaking.

Footsteps outside made her tense; she gazed up at him, her eyes pleading again, but Kanda had no idea what to do, and could do nothing. They were in a dead end, after all.

The door flew open and she shrieked, trying to flatten herself against him. Before he could react, a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, there you are, Lenalee," Leverrier said, as though they had been playing hide-and-seek. He didn't notice Kanda at first, but when he did, he sneered instead of smiling. "Have you made a friend? Unfortunately, she can't join us."

The boy bristled at being called "she" again, but Lenalee clung to his shirt and distracted him enough that he almost forgot about it. He wondered what was going on when the man straightened up and motioned someone over.

"Don't be uncooperative," Leverrier warned, but she almost tore a hole in Kanda's shirt from hanging on to it. The CROW who pulled her out held the struggling girl without a problem. The Inspector didn't call anyone else over. He crouched down to her level and put a hand on her head. "And don't think of trying to run away again. You remember what happened last time, don't you?" The false charm in his voice was thick, and his words made her go still. Leverrier straighted up. "Take her to Hevlaska. We've lost too much time already."

Kanda left the little hole in the building at that, irate and confused, glaring at the uniformed person's back as they glided away. He stared up at the man who made Lenalee so frightened, and the man looked back down at him.

"What's your name, little girl?" he asked, his tone condescending. Kanda stiffened, more irate than ever; he would have pulled out his sword had the Head Matron not swooped in.

"It's time to come inside, Kanda," she said, whisking him away. She didn't look back at the man standing behind them, but she offered in her sternest tone, "Good day, Inspector Leverrier."

"_Le verrier_?" Kanda repeated. The Matron let go of his shirt when they were far into the building and sighed.

"Yes. The Inspector. He holds more power than anyone here." Seeing that his hair had almost completely loosed itself from the tie, she reached out, removed it, and redid it for him. "She'll be back soon."

The Matron left, holding a little girl's jacket to her chest and steeling herself. Kanda stood back and wondered why a glassmaker had so much power, but never got the chance to ask.

* * *

It was more than a few days before he saw Lenalee again. The Glassmaker appeared more than once each day, and the man never failed to call him "little girl." General Tiedoll, who was with him during one of these meetings, told him to let it go; The Glassmaker would stop only when he wanted to, and that wouldn't be anytime soon.

On a night almost a week after that cool morning in the cubbyhole, the door to his room opened around midnight. She crawled into his bed without asking. He didn't flinch when a cold, bandaged arm rubbed against his. He didn't ask what happened when she started to sniffle, just pulled the blankets tighter when she shivered.

For that, she seemed grateful, and they fell asleep without a word passing between them.

* * *

Notes: Dawww. I realized that _The Man in Black_ was kind of really...eh, which is why I decided to rewrite it and ended up with something completely different but with sort of the same idea. It has no more of a plot than the other one, but eh. It's here for fluff, and I think it served its purpose. It's probably obvious, but verre means glass in French, and verrier means glassmaker, so le verrier is the glassmaker. I don't know, it's where the idea came from.

I'm going to be editing/rewriting almost everything on here when I have the time (i.e., when I should be doing homework or reading. Like right now!). A lot of the stuff here was a little forced, but I'm taking it slower.


	6. say nothing

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Warning! Character death. Also, had to bump the rating up because of the ~content~, but not to worry, there's nothing there. Really.

So this is actually based on something I wrote when I was in high school (i.e., a very looooooooong time ago). I reread the story a few days back and wanted to rework it. The original was in a high school setting but I chose to not go that route with this. Its title was Don't Tell, and I wanted to keep something like that but not reuse it. There's also no dialogue, haha. Feedback would be lovely~.

* * *

_say nothing_

It's an overcast day when it begins; the clouds clearly intend to stay, and it's almost gloomy, but no rain falls.

Kanda is meditating, and the door slides open. He looks up to see Lenalee there and has no visible reaction; he resumes his position, eyes falling shut again. She pushes the door so it fastens by itself as she walks into the room. She sits next to him, and she's much, much too close.

He doesn't move away.

She asks how he is. He says that he's fine. She says nothing in response, and they sit in silence for awhile. He hasn't opened his eyes. She tells him there was a small explosion in this science department earlier (but no one is hurt) and he snorts despite himself. She laughs, though he's not sure if it's because of his reaction or what she just told him.

It happens then. Kanda hears Lenalee shifting position but assumes she's simply settling in more.

Her lips are soft against his, which, in comparison, are not at all. She doesn't seem to mind. One hand is on his leg, pressing down so hard he knows he will feel it after she takes it away. The other is on his shoulder, a finger creeping to brush the exposed skin beneath his folded collar. Her cold touch makes him want to shiver, but he refrains.

He is unsure what to do with his hands; one falls awkwardly on her shoulder and the other on her hip. He could push her away. He doesn't want to.

The kiss is imperfect; their noses bump and they're too clumsy for it to be anything but that. He has never kissed anyone before, though, and it doesn't really matter that it's not just right. First kisses tend to be like that, apparently.

As quickly as it starts, it is over. She finds a more comfortable position and gives a little sigh. He lowers his hands but doesn't move otherwise. His leg tingles once the pressure of her hand is gone; the sensation quickly fades, but he cannot forget the feeling of her lips against his.

He opens his eyes after awhile; there is content smile on her face.

Lenalee sits next to him at dinner that night. She gestures with her hands as she talks to Lavi and Allen, who are sitting across from them; they fall back to her sides, and one absently brushes against Kanda's thigh. He doesn't look at her; the bean sprout probably wouldn't catch on but the rabbit is too observant for his liking.

He doesn't want anyone to know what's going on when he still is figuring it out himself.

Nothing happens in the next month. He leaves on a mission and she is gone by the time he gets back. He encounters her the day she returns; she greets him, asks him how he is, and moves on quickly. It continues like that, making him wonder if that day was some sort of fluke; if she has decided, after kissing him, that she doesn't want to anymore because he...he stops thinking about it once he realizes he's reflecting on it more than absolutely necessary.

One afternoon, however, directly following lunch, she motions for him to come with her. He does, and she leads him to a deserted hall; she glances each way quickly, then pushes him into an empty room. The door has no lock and anyone could walk in on them. He doesn't care.

Lenalee's lips are just as soft as the first time. He absently wonders how they stay that way, and doesn't notice what she's doing until she has her hand on it. She takes his sword from him, opens the door, and runs. It happens so quickly that he doesn't react for a short moment. Then he exits the room, pursuing her.

Kanda chases her down the hall and two flights of stairs before she's cornered. He snatches his weapon back from her, but doesn't snap or even seem upset with her. Her laughter is broken from her heavy breathing, and he recalls a time so long ago where laughter followed...he doesn't join her. Even so, as they stand at the bottom of the winding staircase, she laughs enough for both of them.

When she finally has caught her breath and stops giggling, he kisses her. She smiles at him after they part; it's the same content smile he saw in the meditation room. He turns and ascends the stairs, because if they are gone too long...people are quick to become suspicious. She follows without a word.

Lavi asks where they have been as they walk into the library together. Lenalee speaks before he can, but all she says is that they were downstairs. Kanda doesn't like the expression on Lavi's face at all. He looks too curious and almost knowing. It doesn't appear that he's caught on, however; he only nods in response and turns back to his book, accepting the excuse that doesn't explain anything.

Two and a half months of sneaking around and making up more than a few little stories later, Lenalee asks him what they are. Kanda doesn't understand. She repeats the question, and he finally just says he doesn't know. She seems frustrated but leaves it at that.

When she invites him to spend the night with her about a week later, he can't find it in him to say no. She tells him she'll come to his room later and almost skips away. He watches her and muses as she disappears from his line of sight. She would be going to his room yet she had put forth the idea, not him; it seems a little backwards, but there's nothing to complain about, so he doesn't.

She doesn't knock; the door opens and she's there. She slips inside quietly and makes her way over to the bed.

He's not sure that they should be doing this. They've known each other for years, except it was never like...this; and it hasn't been like...this for very long, so does that even make a difference?

Lenalee's hands are cold, just like that one cloudy day he can't forget, and Kanda doesn't know what to do with his. It's painfully awkward; she boldly reaches inside of his pants at one point and touches him there, but he pushes her hand away. It's too cold. It's too much. It's too fast.

She pulls back and looks down at him. She has shed her pajama top already and is half-naked above him. She asks what's the matter, and he doesn't know what to say. She stares at him for a few drawn out moments. Finally, she moves off him; she seems to understand, but by the expression on her face it appears that she really doesn't.

She doesn't dress again; the chemise she wears to bed is across the room (her doing; she tossed it away after taking it off). She curls up next to him and they fall asleep together. He wakes up the next morning, early as usual, but she's already gone. He wonders what the night might have been like had he not shied away, but dismisses the thoughts.

They don't talk about that night; they don't talk much at all, in fact. They're all so busy that there's little time for idle chat. She pulls him into dark corners and he brings her into empty rooms, but all they do is kiss.

One night they do find themselves alone in the library, in front of the cold fireplace. It is clear that no one is around, so she gets up and squeezes in next to him on the chair. The chair is not big enough for two people, but she doesn't seem to mind; her arms go around his neck and she folds her legs above his, and she does nothing else. They don't speak; they don't kiss; they only...cuddle. He doesn't care for the term, but no other word is fit to describe it.

It is inevitable that they would be caught; they are not careful enough one day. As they finish eating lunch, Kanda gestures to her, but apparently it's too obvious. Lenalee meets him in the room they always go to, the one she pushed him into that second time; she pushes the door closed but it doesn't stay that way for long. Lavi walks in, though she has only moved to hug Kanda. He appears surprised, as though this isn't what he expected when he followed her. He must have been putting on an act for them; surely he had figured it out, what with the motions between them earlier.

Before either can say anything his features smooth and he holds up his hands. He says that they need not worry; he won't tell anyone. Kanda doesn't bother threatening him to make sure that promise holds; there are a few things that Lavi has kept quiet about previously. That doesn't mean, of course, that he's happy the rabbit knows. Lenalee is tense but doesn't speak.

There is less and less time but it can't be helped. The war is becoming more intense; they don't have time to relax. They rarely see each other anymore. Lenalee starts to ask him something once but bites her lip; she tries to say something another time but stops herself again.

Kanda intends to find out what she was going to say, but keeps putting off speaking to her about it. He wishes he hadn't.

They're together when it happens. It's a sunny day; nice and warm without a cloud in the sky. They're on a mission together; they're fighting together. He is still unable to stop it. Busy with another akuma, he doesn't look until it's too late to do anything.

Otherwise, his timing is perfect: he turns around the exact right moment to see the final blow.

He blames himself but no one else seems to; Lavi keeps looking at him oddly once he comes back from the mission and after the funeral. Lavi, who does not say anything even now, watches him with a strange expression on his face; that is, however, all he does.

Kanda adds a few things to his list of regrets (_he never asked what she was going to say; he couldn't save her life;...__he never told her that he loved her_) and never tells anyone what happened between them.

* * *

More notes: Yeah, so. This is the second time Lenalee has died (or has been dead, I guess) in something I've written. Really, I hate character death, and I love Lenalee, but this wasn't supposed to have a happy ending (and one of the characters died in the original as well). Think of it as a prequel to 4, maybe.


	7. in a flash of lightning

Standard disclaimers apply here.

prompt: lonely by candlelight

Warnings: _overuse of italics_ (and parentheses as well)

This was going to be different than it ended up being, but that's how everything goes. This is set after the last two kidfics. I was going to make reference to it but I'm not really one for intertextuality (lol vocabulary word from spring lit class) so I left it out. I feel like this jumps around a bit, but meh. Flashlights were indeed around near the very end of the 19th century, along with light bulbs. It seems like they would have lights there anyway, considering all the other stuff they have (lolHoshino). Anyway, I reread the chapters that Daisya was in and I'm not sure I grasped his character...he was at/in/whatever the Order at this point, though, so I couldn't not include him. The title is obvious but why not, yaknow? After my 1kth reread there are some parts I'm unsure about, but I won't fuss with it anymore. I heart you all for leaving such wonderful reviews.

* * *

_in a flash of lightning_

The storm raged outside. Lenalee watched it anxiously from her bed, though not because she was scared of the storm itself.

That lightning was a little _too_ close.

It flashed a few more times before she heard a loud _CRACK_. Much yelling followed it; her worries must have been realized: lightning struck the building.

The lights flickered and went off. She waited for them to come back because there had been short blackouts previously; after some time, however, it was clear that the electricity was gone for the night. They surely wouldn't be able to fix anything in this darkness.

Lenalee, having called this _her _room for almost six years now (despite the fact that she hadn't spent every night in it when she was in the building...still, it was hers), figured she would be able to get around without running into something. That idea was proven wrong as her shin met the front of her dresser. Rubbing her leg, she lit one of the two candles that sat on top of the short chest of drawers and took up both.

She'd kept them though she never had to use them...well, not like this, at least. Over a year ago, shortly after she'd turned eleven, she'd discovered them stashed in a storage room. It had been awhile since she had even seen one and she'd felt excited about her find for some reason. She had talked Kanda and Daisya (the latter needed little persuading; he readily agreed, in fact) into going into the far corner of the library with her late one night; she'd then found some horror stories they could read by candlelight.

It didn't work out like she'd hoped it would, considering how awful the stories were (she had expected it would be fun but they weren't anywhere near it). Otherwise, the candles had never gotten used. She had been smart to hold onto them, all things considered.

Lenalee ascended the stairs and almost ran into her brother hurriedly descending them.

"Lenalee!" he cried, holding a dim (and becoming dimmer) flashlight. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I am," she responded, ignoring the pain in her shin. Better to keep that to herself (she'd have a nasty bruise, probably, but that was nothing). He would fuss over it for far too long, nevertheless. "It's just a blackout," she pointed out, and he frowned, nodding a little.

"Wait! Your leg looks red!" How could he see it in such low (and lowering...that flashlight wasn't as amazing as everyone seemed to think) light?

"Yeah..." she started and trailed off. "I forgot how many steps it took to get to my dresser and...ran into it." Indeed, Komui overreacted, checking for broken bones and offering to carry her to the next floor. She repeatedly told him she was perfectly fine; he did it regardless, easily lifting her off her feet.

"Set me down now, please," she ordered as they reached the top of the stairs, sounding terser than she intended. Kanda's room was on this floor and she wanted to give him the other candle she had in her hand.

"Do you think you can walk?"

"Stop acting so ridiculous; I ran into a dresser and bumped my leg. Of course I can walk." Lenalee was tired; she'd just returned from a mission and the storm kept her awake. "Thank you," she said as he set her down, kissing her brother's cheek to make up for the snappiness. He smiled and was about to pull her into a hug when she blurted out, "Candle!" Certainly they could have maneuvered so neither caught on fire; it would have been difficult, however, and she had things she needed to do.

Striding down the hall, she realized with horror that she was walking toward the damaged part of the building. How...how did this make the electricity go off? That thought was put on the back burner as she noticed that the gaping hole was where _Kanda's room was_.

"Where –" she started. She never got the rest out because someone behind her stopped her. A hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed.

"We can't find him," Komui answered her before she could finish the question. They knew very well that he had been there earlier that night. She couldn't say anything. "He'll turn up soon," he assured her.

Lenalee allowed herself to be guided back down the hall so that neither could see the awful sight. Rain had started blowing in as they stood there, anyway, so they needed to leave it for more than one reason.

Everyone had gathered in the cafeteria, and it was quite possibly the definition of chaos. Her brother became distracted quickly, so she sneaked off. Walking out and heading into a far hall, she found Daisya and Noise Marie already there. There was a candle on the floor, casting a little bit of light on the area.

"You heard, huh?" Daisya asked as she came closer. She nodded without a word.

"He's here somewhere," Marie told them, sounding so confident that she believed him. Never did it occur to her that he was trying to placate her.

Daisya wasn't calmed by his teammate's words like Lenalee had been. Nonetheless, he wasn't about to utter anything else that would make her upset. She set her lit candle down as well, adding a little more light into the hall. She didn't put the other on the floor; she held it to her chest protectively, thinking it wouldn't be noticed. He saw it, despite her efforts to keep it hidden.

"You were gonna give that to Kanda, weren't you?"

"Yeah," she replied, not bothering to try to deny it. What other reason would she have it? "He told me to keep it after that night in the library so I figured he'd need one..."

"You don't need to worry about him so much," Daisya pointed out. Lenalee scowled.

"I don't see how bringing someone a candle during a blackout is _worrying about them too much_." Perhaps she was being overly defensive, but she was so tired and shaken.

"T-that's not it," he responded, holding up his hands. He opened his mouth to attempt to explain himself, and would have if he hadn't been stopped by a voice to his right.

"I'm sure all of your intentions are good, Lenalee," Noise Marie interjected. Both turned to him. "There's no reason to argue about this." She sighed and looked away, the unpleasant expression still present on her face. Daisya eyed her warily.

No one spoke for some time. Finally, Lenalee took her candle and pivoted to leave. She paused and called over her shoulder, "I'm going to the library." She gave them that information in case anyone started searching for her; then Marie and Daisya would know where she was. Neither made any move to follow her.

"Tou-chy," Daisya drew out as her light completely disappeared.

"She's concerned about him," Marie defended. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Daisya didn't respond as he pressed his back to the wall to slide down it and sit on the ground. A longcase clock somewhere chimed twelve times. It was only midnight yet the night was already dragging and it felt like it should have been so much later.

Lenalee had to set down her candle in order to open the door. When she picked it up, walked inside and glanced around, something didn't feel right...rather, it didn't look right. It was dark, indeed, but somehow not completely pitch-black.

She left her candle to tiptoe down the rows of books toward the dim light she could see.

She perhaps shouldn't have been so surprised, yet she was.

"Kanda!" she cried, almost startled. He turned away from the book he was reading with another one of those dimming flashlights (why did anyone use them?) and didn't share her shocked expression.

"What?"

"Where have you been? We've all been so worried," she told him as she moved toward him. He responded when she was standing next to him.

"I've been here."

"Didn't you hear the storm and the lightning and your room was –"

"I _know_," he cut her off so she wouldn't talk herself out of breath. "I left right before it hit." He didn't appear to care either way that his room had been destroyed.

Lenalee frowned and didn't respond immediately. "Why didn't you go downstairs with everyone else?" He made a noise of irritation.

"It's too noisy." It was a perfectly good reason to him. Lenalee was not satisfied with it. Instead of speaking, she bent over, reached out to grab the book in his lap, clapped it shut in her hands, and used it to hit him. Not very hard, of course; just a (firm) tap on his head to get her message across.

She pulled it back and Kanda yanked the book out of her hands. He was glaring and rubbing his head, though she knew it couldn't have hurt. He noticed something else and appeared even more annoyed: "You made me lose my page."

"Good," she responded. So what if he lost his page? They didn't know where he was or if he was okay for some time. Having to find his page again was nothing compared to that, so he shouldn't be complaining.

He began flipping through the book; it was hard to locate where he had been when he had to hold the flashlight and turn the pages at once. Lenalee spun and disappeared.

When she came back, two lit candles were in her hands. "I brought one for you," she informed him. It was slightly easier to see with them there. She plunked down next to him and Kanda wasn't sure he'd get back to his book that night.

She waited a few moments to say or do anything; she pressed against his side and tried to discern what text was in his lap. "What are you reading?" she finally asked.

He decided this was, in fact, futile and closed the book to show her the cover. She nodded and yawned. She laughed when he couldn't help echoing it.

"Tired?" she almost teased, but she was so exhausted she was having trouble staying awake now.

Lenalee fell asleep there, sitting with her back pressed to the wall, still leaning on Kanda's side. Not wanting to disturb her (despite the fact that he was irritated) and also worn out, he followed her lead a little later.

In the morning there was more chaos; somehow the noise didn't wake them. Marie said she had gone to the library and Daisya confirmed it, except she was nowhere to be seen at first. Komui found them around noon (they were in a far corner that hardly anyone ever came across): sometime during the night Lenalee had slumped to the side and her head had landed on Kanda's shoulder; he had moved enough, as well, so that his rested atop hers.

Komui took in the scene. He _was _the newly overprotective brother figure; then again, the two were friends and had been for a long time. Nothing to worry about there, right? So all he did was grab their shoulders and shake them awake at once. They sat up and away from each other by doing so. Lenalee rubbed her neck.

"What time is it?" she inquired, rubbing her eyes before tipping her head back to see her brother.

"Just past noon," he told her, patting her head.

"That late?" She looked surprised.

"Don't worry; we're glad the two of you are safe."

Indeed, everyone was incredibly relieved. Kanda wasn't very thrilled by all of it; Lenalee pointed out that he wouldn't have had to deal with it had he not gone and hid in the library. There was nothing he could say to that because it was obviously the truth; he still sulked.

Once they all remembered they'd need to give him another room to sleep in, she offered to let him stay with her; she had crawled into his bed more times than she could count, so why not the opposite? It seemed like a good idea to her.

Komui, within earshot, came rushing over, fast enough that Kanda hadn't responded yet. All thoughts of 'there's nothing to worry about here' disappeared when he heard that. The overprotective brother side kicked in. "Absolutely not," he stated firmly, dragging Lenalee into another room to tell her how terrible boys were and that she shouldn't go near them for as long as possible – forever sounded good, in fact.

When she huffed and informed him that the ones she knew were hardly _bad_ (even if Kanda would be, well, Kanda - that was the only way to describe it - sometimes and Daisya had played a few mean tricks here and there, that didn't make her think of either of them as _bad_), he cried out theatrically that she didn't know what they were _actually _like and that she should be _careful_.

At length, Lenalee took his hand and said she'd be careful for him (whatever that meant, she added her head) and he acted so relieved. Kanda was given a room to stay in for the time being (which ended up becoming his permanent room because there was nothing left of his old one; why should he go back to it after it was fixed when he'd sort of settled in the new room?) just below hers; she proved to be very good at persuading her brother to assign him that specific space. Komui appeared suspicious of Kanda at first; Lenalee assured him there was nothing to worry about (what he was worrying about, she wasn't exactly sure), and he believed her. How could he not? She would never lie to him.

So, once things settled down, Lenalee was happy, which made Komui happy. Kanda had no strong feelings about being in the new room; it wasn't important. He was at least content to finally be able to go back what he had been reading and find the place he had lost. Until, of course, Lenalee happened upon him and interrupted him. He couldn't really be mad because, after all, she didn't hit him with the book again.


	8. or else the light

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Warning! Some adult content. Oh, and spoilers for the most recent chapters (195 included).

The section in italics before the fic is from _The Handmaid's Tale_ by Margaret Atwood (not entirely related but it was a jumping off point, so to speak). The title is taken from it as well. Nonlinear again because it's basically my favorite style, though writing has been a real source of frustration lately. I gloss over things because probably a lot of other stuff is going to happen before this arc ends. I feel like some parts might be weird, but it's meant to be sort of disjointed. I don't know how well I wrote Lavi because I never have before, but meh. Anyway, feedback would be nice. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed so far (and sorry for not responding directly. I'm not sure why I got away from that). Also, 4-1-3-2-5.

* * *

Mayday _used to be a distress signal, a long time ago, in one of those wars we studied in high school. I kept getting them mixed up, but you could tell them apart by the airplanes if you paid attention. It was Luke who told me about mayday, though. _Mayday_, _Mayday_, for pilots whose planes had been hit, and ships – was it ships too? – at sea. Maybe it was S O S for ships. I wish I could look it up. And it was something from Beethoven, for the beginning of the victory, in one of those wars._

_Do you know what it came from? said Luke. Mayday?_

_No, I said. It's a strange word to use for that, isn't it?_

_Newspapers and coffee, and Sunday mornings, before she was born. There were still newspapers, then. We used to read them in bed._

_It's French, he said. From _m'aidez_._

_Help me._

* * *

_or else the light_

Lenalee was calm; it was calm.

But that was a lie. There was nothing like tranquility or peace out there.

The cabin was small and sat in the middle of nowhere, and its shelter meant nothing if it couldn't protect them from attack. It could come from every direction and there wasn't even a corner to be backed into; they would be simply out of luck if that happened. They weren't about to leave this place just yet, however.

Outside war was raging, Lenalee was half-sprawled on a table, and Kanda was hovering above her with a look in his eyes that she returned.

* * *

Ever since _that day_ as they all seemed to call it, every mission was approached with incredible caution. The earl hadn't gotten what he'd wanted, but that was all she knew.

No one would tell her exactly what happened; when she'd ask, the scientists appeared sick, Allen seemed determined yet regretful, and Kanda completely ignored the question; ignored her, which he never did and it _bothered _her so much. She almost wanted to badger him about it (Why is your hair lighter? What did you do? Why did my brother have that expression on his face when we all returned? – intensely serious, his lips in a thin line rather than happiness that they were all still alive – _What happened_?) but refrained because she knew that wouldn't help.

Lenalee thought he'd maybe tell her on his own, like he had a few things here and there (they'd known each other for so long; how could he not let something slip?); his lips were tightly sealed on this matter.

They sat together in the library; they sat across from each other in the cafeteria; they trained next to and with each other occasionally; and she lingered at his door some nights, wondering if she should go in but never doing it (and he sat on his bed those nights, waiting for her to come in but never inviting her).

She asked him nothing and received no answers; life went on that way.

* * *

She'd gone on a mission to France with Allen and Kanda a few months later.

It had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

Allen, despite his best efforts, slipped a little. Kanda, remembering only too well that if the 14th in him awakened he should be killed (and forgetting the "determined to be a threat to the Order" part...but she didn't know; she hadn't seen; she hadn't heard his..._its_ voice that day), immediately went to kill him. Lenalee, though she knew that it was an order that he be..., had almost gone to try and stop them when they all heard the voice.

A child crying nearby; an akuma about to attack. The 14th was gone but Allen's eye wasn't working for some reason; they only knew when it was almost too late.

Lenalee was injured, but not by the akuma and therefore she wasn't succumbing to the virus. Kanda had grabbed her and dragged her back in time, getting what was meant for her. Her arm was broken but she was alive.

When it was all over, Allen had come over to her to see how she was, and she felt bad at how concerned and worried he looked. (No shadows of the 14th there, which was good because she'd seen enough to last her forever.) The bone needed to be set and Kanda did it without hesitation, though he made sure she was ready and that she was alright after.

She was confused when Allen glanced over at him and was about to say something; Kanda told him to shut up before he spoke, and in the dark she continued to be.

* * *

Lenalee idled in the kitchen, waiting for the cookies to finish baking. She wasn't making them to try to bribe Allen; of course not. Baking soothed her nerves and coming back from that...The Third Exorcists were all gone. There was no trace of them.

The expression on her brother's face made her feel agitated; it was so grim. _He_ wouldn't say anything, either, no matter how many times she appealed to him.

Frustrated, she almost threw the cookies down on the cooling rack.

A noise behind her signaled that she wasn't alone. She turned and found Lavi there, slightly disheveled.

"Cookies at midnight?" he questioned instead of greeting her. There was something near a smile on his face, but it wasn't quite there for some reason.

"I couldn't sleep." Lenalee set the empty tray down and shut off the oven. Good thing she noticed; it might have been on all night otherwise. She was in the smaller kitchens that were only used occasionally during the day. "You?"

A yawn before he spoke. "Same. Where does Jeryy keep the alcohol?" he asked lightly, mostly joking, and she gave a short, small laugh.

"Over there." He started toward the back. "Under lock and key."

"That's no fun," he responded mildly, not facing her. Instead, he poured himself a glass of water; he glanced at her finally and saw that she was gripping the scraper in her hands so hard her knuckles were almost white. "Lenalee?"

"What?"

Instead of saying more, he walked over to her and gently pulled the tool away from her. Her fingers ached from holding it so tightly and she flexed them. He set it aside and stared at her; she looked away, not liking how he was studying her.

"Are you all right?" he inquired.

"I'm fine," she replied, going over to the cookies. "Just in the dark, that's all."

There was such a long pause that she almost thought Lavi left. "No one told you?"

Pivoting, Lenalee eyed him. "You know what happened?"

"Of course," he said, and she remembered that – of course – he'd know about it. He knew about everything; it apparently came with being Bookman's apprentice.

"Tell me," she demanded, but he spun and started to walk out. "Wait!"

"There are some things you're better off not knowing, Lenalee. Good night." He flipped the lights off from force of habit, and the room was blanketed with gloom. It was chased away by brightness as he caught himself and apologized with a quick call behind him.

It didn't really matter; she knew her way out just fine. Still, it was nice to not have to walk through dark rooms; trying to move through them and not trip over anything, trusting memory alone.

* * *

Once her arm healed, Lenalee was sent on another mission with Allen and Kanda.

It seemed that all of her missions with them were destined to go badly.

The incident in France repeated itself, but they were chasing after him this time, into this forest and toward that cabin. They had no idea where he'd gone but she'd dragged him into the vulnerable building.

She never intended for this to happen. At least, not here.

There was the threat of death outside, and she was taking her shorts off. Was she imaging the popping sound of bullets as he unbuttoned his coat? Or were there shots being fired as she helped him with his pants?

And when they kissed for the first time – it was not touches or words but a glance they'd shared that had them stripping off the necessary clothes only – perhaps the rushing sound was the wind and not some sort of odd attack. The cabin didn't move but the table probably wasn't sturdy. She had to stop him at one point; she wasn't sure she was (physically) ready but he understood.

His hand moved under her coat, between her legs; she gasped and wondered if that flicker in the corner of her eye was her imagination or – he pulled back and she thought he was going to leave; she'd closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to wonder about seeing things and then...

Afterward, Kanda kissed her again. Lenalee sank her fingers into the arms of his coat, returned it, and pretended that they were somewhere, anywhere else (maybe they'd be happy, maybe they'd be warm, maybe they'd feel comfort instead of this constant anxiety).

Then it was over, and she had to yank her shorts back on and he had to pull up his pants and grab his coat, and they were faced with an immense amount of akuma (and Allen nowhere in sight) when they left.

As she launched herself and he already had his sword in hand, she knew there was nothing to worry about. What had happened no longer mattered; there was no time to agonize over it anymore. And those fleeting moments they'd just shared might not be repeated, but it was - and would most likely have to be - enough.


	9. 9

Standard disclaimers apply here.

It's weird to update two days in a row, but I got this idea and ran with it, so here it is. Their ages aren't stated but it'll be easy to figure it out at the end. More growing up~. I should write them as bbs again, but for some reason it just wants to progress like this. This one was fun to write, which was nice because it feels like I haven't enjoyed writing in awhile. I'll probably think of a title later but uncreative now, so 9 it is. Feedback would be lovely~.

* * *

One morning, Lenalee nearly skipped into the cafeteria. After getting her breakfast, she went and sat across from Kanda, a large smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, incredibly confused by her behavior. The smile dimmed.

"What do you mean 'what?'? Don't you remember what today is?" He stared at her.

"No," he responded bluntly, moving to finish his soba. He was surprised she didn't say anything about that; she'd taken to bugging him about it lately (good-naturedly, as Marie put it, but Kanda didn't see how that was the case and ignored it after awhile; that only made her bug him more).

Lenalee made a little 'hmph' noise. "Well, I'm not going to tell you. You're going to have to figure it out for yourself."

"Figure out _what_?" His tone didn't put her off.

"I already told you."

He would have said more but Daisya came in at the moment, sitting next to Lenalee and whispering something to her that made her laugh. Kanda stood and left, determined to discern what the hell she'd been talking about, even though he probably had better things to do.

She sighed as he left. Daisya eyed her. "He doesn't remember, does he?"

Her mood darkened at the fact that _Daisya_ remembered, but Kanda couldn't. Of course, she'd told the former a few months ago, but this day really meant nothing to him. So why was it that he was conscious of what happened some years ago today? Perhaps she should have cut Kanda some slack, but she didn't want to on this.

Unfortunately, Lenalee had a feeling that he'd find out through someone else, and that was no good. After telling Daisya she had to take care of something, she threw away her garbage and half of her breakfast – it was wasteful, yes, but she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

* * *

It took him awhile to find Marie, but finally Kanda found him outside, apparently tuning his strings. He thought he saw someone disappear around the corner but couldn't be sure; anyway, he was more focused on talking to his teammate.

"Hello, Kanda," Marie greeted him. "How are you?"

"Fine. What's today?" He could have made idle chitchat before going into it, but was that really necessary?

"It's Wednesday, isn't it?" He paused, thinking. "I believe it's the twelfth."

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

Kanda frowned and tried to think of how to explain it. "Lenalee made it seem like today is important but wouldn't tell me why."

"Really? Why are you asking me about it?"

"You've been here the whole time." Almost there; Marie didn't imply that he was on the right track because Lenalee, who had spoken with him right before this, implored him to not tell Kanda. She quite fervently wanted him to piece things together alone; she'd inquired why he was smiling like that, but Marie shook his head and agreed to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

Neither seemed to realize it yet; they were on the verge of it and didn't know, and he almost wanted to warn them to be careful. He stayed silent about it, however, and let things unfold because he honestly couldn't imagine that anything bad would come from it.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea."

Kanda made an irritated noise but when Marie said good morning he echoed it – sort of. He spun and left then, and Lenalee came back around the corner once he was gone.

She sighed as she came closer to him. "I don't think he will figure it out."

"Give him a little more time. I think he'll get it." She winced as he plucked a string in the wrong place, sending out an awful squeal. "I'm sorry; I'm a little distracted."

She glanced at him and frowned. "I'm sorry that we bothered you," she apologized, watching her feet and not seeing the small smile on his face from her use of "we" instead of "I". "Oh! I need to go talk to General Tiedoll before Kanda does." She bid him a good morning and he did the same, listening to her hurried footsteps and letting the smile take over his expression now that they had both left.

* * *

General Tiedoll proved to be quite hard to find. He didn't really want to ask him about this, but, other than Marie, he couldn't think of anyone else that would know what today was. He found him on the roof, and he was almost certain that a shadow flitted behind one of the spires across from the door.

Kanda was about to see if his imagination was playing tricks on him or not when his General called to him.

"Yu! What are you doing up here?" The idiot was sitting on the edge of the roof, and certainly one good gust of wind would send him over it. He seemed entirely unconcerned, using the rare break time to sketch the scenery.

He was already irritated and became even more so at the use of his first name. Still, he gritted his teeth and walked over to the man. "What's today?" he demanded without pretense.

"It's Wednesday, the twelfth of – "

"I meant what happened today!" he snapped, no more patience left.

"What happened today? Well, I'm sure a lot of things have. Though I think the most important is the fact that we – " A strangled noise behind the spire cut him off again.

Since she had revealed herself already, Lenalee decided to come out from behind it. Kanda seemed surprised and Tiedoll appeared a bit abashed.

"I'm sorry, Lenalee; I simply can't refuse one of my sons." Aforementioned "son" bristled a bit but didn't have the chance to give that a response.

"It's okay, General Tiedoll," she assured him, despite her obvious bad mood. "You didn't say it, so it's fine."

"Say what?" Kanda had relaxed a bit when she spoke, but what she said left him bemused.

"She means that I didn't reveal what today is," Tiedoll supplied, but gave nothing more than that.

He looked back and forth between them, from the mild expression to the dark one, and finally gave an irritated sigh. "Why won't you _tell me_?"

"Because you should know!" Lenalee returned, her tone similar to his. He glared but she didn't back down. After a moment, she gave in – a little. "Why did you ask General Tiedoll and Marie instead of anyone else?" She knew why, of course; she was trying to lead him to the conclusion.

"They've been here as long as I have been," he responded tersely.

"And what might they have to do with this?" The question confused him and he had no answer.

"Lenalee, why don't you just tell him?" Tiedoll had been viewing their exchange with amusement, a soft smile on his face. Marie was right; they hadn't realized it yet. Then again, neither had a normal childhood, so they wouldn't know exactly why she teased him or what it meant because there was no one to definitively explain it (of course, he could, but it was more fun to let them work things out). Perhaps they did each have some idea, but one thing was clear: neither was backing down, and both were not giving an inch.

"Because he should know," she repeated, irate. This wasn't what she wanted to happen today at all. Not that she had any specific expectations, but running around the Order, trying to make sure no one told Kanda anything definitely wasn't what she would have anticipated doing.

Tiedoll gave a little sigh. "Yu," (and that was certainly an awful look he received then, but he pushed through it) "how long have you been here?"

"General Tiedoll – " He held up a hand. Lenalee stopped and crossed her arms.

"Five years," he replied with no hesitation or pause to think. The gears began to turn in his head. The General and girl waited. He narrowed his eyes. "Is that it?"

Lenalee was more puzzled than livid now. "Is what it?"

"Five years ago today I arrived here," he stated. "I knew that. What about it is so important?"

Frustrated and tired, she shoved past him and ran down the stairs; Kanda and Tiedoll could each see that she was crying.

"'What about it is so important'?" Tiedoll repeated. Kanda turned to him, a questioning expression on his face. "You really hurt her feelings there, Yu." He stared, not even reacting to his first name; it didn't make sense.

"What did I do?"

"Well," he drew out the word, wondering if Lenalee would want him to let Kanda figure this one out too. He decided that it was better to tell him this time. "You arrived here five years ago today, of course; but who did you meet when you got here?"

"Lenalee," he answered immediately, not knowing that he was supposed to think on that inquiry more before saying anything; to consider what it meant before he spoke. Tiedoll said nothing else, setting down his sketchbook momentarily to swing his legs over the edge of the roof; he stood and walked down the stairs after he picked up his things. He patted Kanda's shoulder as he passed him, but that was all.

Left alone on the roof, he thought for a long, long time about that.

* * *

Lenalee ate her dinner morosely; it was later than usual and she was alone.

Stupid Kanda. Stupid, stupid Kanda. She tore into her napkin, but not far enough to rip it in half.

Someone sat next to her; she didn't expect it to be Kanda and didn't want it to be. She was about to get up but he stopped her.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly.

"For what?" she prompted, not letting this go that easily.

To her surprise, he didn't glare at her or put on an irritated face. "Earlier," he responded simply, but went on, "I...didn't mean it like that."

Lenalee could have gone on forever, asking him how he meant it and then another question to follow his response and yet another after that; that day, however, she decided to leave it. "All right." Still, she wasn't entirely amicable.

A tap on her shoulder brought her out of her annoyed state. Jeryy was standing behind her with a small chocolate cake in his hand. He set it in front of her.

"There you are, darling," he said, sounding happier than usual, if that was possible.

"Th-thank you, but I...I didn't order it." She stumbled over her words and she didn't know why; normally receiving a little cake like this out of nowhere would be a delight but for some reason, on this day, it didn't feel the same.

"I know," Jeryy responded with a wide grin. "That handsome thing next to you did." With that, he left them; Lenalee's eyes were round and Kanda was staring at his soba.

Instead of whipping around, she slowly turned herself so she was facing forward. Then she looked at him.

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"You know what I meant."

"Just eat the cake."

"I don't think I can finish the whole thing."

"Then have Jeryy put it away for later."

"No, I meant you should split it with me."

He made a face. "You know I don't like sweets."

"A fourth of it?" The face remained. "At least take a bite." He didn't seem keen on that either, but when he glanced at her and saw her expression, he knew there was no getting out of it.

And of course she had to insist on feeding it to him. "How is it?" He chewed, swallowed, grabbed his water, and drank half of it.

"Too sweet."

"Good; I'm sure I'll really like it." Their palates were quite different, she'd found, so the fact that he had that reaction meant it would definitely be great. She considered bugging him about his nothing-but-soba diet again as he went back to it, but decided not to, for once.

* * *

Marie, Daisya, and Tiedoll all listened to this exchange; Marie shook his head as they ate in silence after Lenalee said she'd enjoy the cake because he didn't.

"Not there yet," he stated, but he was smiling.

"Give 'em time," Daisya almost defended. "This is Kanda we're talking about. Lenalee'll probably get it years before he does."

"Kanda deserves more credit than that," Marie returned. "She'll figure it out before him, but it won't take him years; one year seems fairer."

"Still a long time," Daisya pointed out, and Tiedoll laughed.

"Ah, it's wonderful to see two of my sons caring so much about the other. What a great day this has been."


	10. in the cold light of day

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Warning! Adult themes and imminent (?) character death.

I've been playing around with some writing techniques and so on because I've been having a difficult time starting and finishing anything (and writing essays takes a lot out of you, as many probably know). Explaining what I did for this would take up too much space. I tried out another, probably unnoticeable technique with it. Even if it's not that obvious it was fun to do. I wanted to do something super big and detailed for numbah ten, but that didn't work out. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed~. I appreciate all of them even if I don't respond. The title is an idiom, though it doesn't really match the meaning. But I liked it so whatever.

* * *

_in the cold light of day_

The rain pounded steadily against the windows. They scarcely noticed; they focused so obsessively on one another.

Lenalee would remember this fifth night together, she knew. They should have had more time, yet it would have to do. She never wanted this day to come. Foolishly, she thought after the war ended, it wouldn't; at least, not for a long time.

Entirely pensive the previous day, Kanda told her he would die soon when she forced the words out of him.

Quite calm and serious, she asked, "When?"

Pausing and apparently sorting his thoughts, he responded, "Tomorrow." He sounded much too certain.

Thus, "Are you sure?" She received only a nod. She numbly breathed, "Oh."

Neither moved; neither spoke; neither looked away. She then nearly fell into the chair sitting behind her.

"Well," she said briskly after a long pause, "shall I make dinner now?" The clock struck four in the background, but he didn't refuse. They had nothing else to do.

They lay awake until the early hours; she tried not to cry and he attempt to console her, but had no words, of course. Soon dawn would break them out of their reverie, but for now...

The warmth in the room felt like a blanket. Her back arched and he kissed her shoulder, her neck, and finally her cheek. Her fingernails dug into his upper arms as she gasped. Seeming to read her mind, he pulled away.

She nearly pushed him onto his back but she needn't; he did so without prompt. She moved on top of him, picked up where he'd left off, and watched him from her position. He gazed up at her with that _look_ in his eyes; the one she never wanted to forget.

She stopped a few times to prolong it, but also because of the anger eating at her. The pauses quelled it, if only a little.

But when it did bloom fully inside of her, in her mind she directed it at him for not telling her sooner; at the Order for what they'd done; at herself because she couldn't _do anything_.

The red that still stained his cheeks afterward made her feel better for some reason. Curled up next to him, she almost pleaded as the rain stopped, "Are you _sure_?"

"Time has run out," he returned, but she couldn't decide what he meant. For, as he told her that, the clouds cleared. The sun, an unwelcome guest that morning, reached into their room with its first rays of dawn.

A new day had sneaked up on them. Yet another day had started. They greeted it with tired expressions.

For them, a singular day had begun.


	11. sweet as sugar

Standard disclaimers apply here.

This has no point. Really. It's just another kidfic. The shortest yet. They're bbs again here, shortly after they met, so after _The Monster in the Room_ but before _The Glassmaker_. I took a break from the other thing I'm working on (lolselfpromotionbutnotexactly?) because I accidentally closed the tab with the document I was editing and I lost all the changes and grrrrr frustrating. And I wanted to write a one-shot. Love to all who reviewed~.

* * *

_sweet as sugar_

She kept _poking_ at it. His patience was wearing thin, mostly because he was so tired.

"Just eat it!" he snapped, and she jumped. She frowned at him, furrowing her brow. It took him a long time to realize that she was mimicking his expression. He only figured it out because at some point she slipped and had to compose herself, bringing the scowl back. "I'll leave you here," he threatened, which wasn't much of a threat at all. Lenalee knew her way around, but it was dark beyond the kitchen, and she didn't like the dark.

She couldn't sleep that night because she hadn't eaten supper; she was so hungry that she kept fidgeting, but kept going back and forth about getting up. Kanda - she was in his bed again - sat up, threw back the covers, and told her to stop that or leave. She stubbornly said she wouldn't do either, and he would have said more had her stomach not growled; it was so loud that they could both hear it.

Understanding that he would get no sleep unless she ate, he grabbed her hand and all but dragged her to the kitchen. The chef was asleep by then, but he'd forgotten to lock the door, so they sneaked in.

Lenalee's face lit up when she saw that he'd made cupcakes sometime during the day and eagerly grabbed one. Kanda wrongly assumed that this would be the end of it.

She had been looking at it, closely considering it, from nearly every angle before plucking at the paper. She still hadn't taken a bite when he snapped at her.

"No you won't," she returned, going back to her cupcake. She caught a bit of frosting on her finger and licked it off, seeing how sweet it was before she took a bite.

"I will," he grumbled, but didn't move. Instead, he waited an absurdly long time for her to take a single, full bite of it. "Stop playing with it."

"I'm not," she countered, a bit of frosting on her nose. She didn't notice, and took another, smaller bite.

"You're doing that on purpose," he accused tiredly. He punctuated it with a yawn.

"Maybe I am," she replied a touch mischievously, but echoed his yawn. He pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and she looked surprised. "You're not going."

"I am." He walked toward the door.

"Wait!" she cried, and ate the rest of the sweet in two bites. Lenalee then hastened to follow him, suddenly catching on. "You did that on purpose."

"So?"

"Hmph." She crossed her arms like Kanda had been; he paid no attention to that fact. He was satisfied that his quickly made up and executed plan worked.

That was, until they were lying in his bed again later. He was half asleep when -

"Ohhhhh," Lenalee moaned, holding her stomach.

"What?" Kanda asked, exhausted at this point.

"My stomach hurts." He was about to tell her to be quiet about it when she said, "I think it's because I ate that cupcake too fast."

He just couldn't win that night.


	12. removed

This "chapter" has been replaced by this text for a few reasons. First, because I don't want to delete it entirely and have everything get off balance (i.e., the reviews would be all screwed up). And second, because I couldn't think about this without cringing or wanting to completely avoid it and never read it again. I wrote these at a time when I was forcing myself to, and forcing writing doesn't lead to good results, for the most part. I still like a few of them, which is why they haven't been replaced, but these? They'll probably never see the light of day again.


	13. blowing hot and cold

Standard disclaimers apply here.

idek. I got this book about writer's block and stuff, and one of the prompts that it had in it was "a borrowed sweater." This is what came from it. It's, uh, suggestive, sort of. You can take it how you will (it could be more than one thing...in my mind).

* * *

_blowing hot and cold_

It was a cold night. Kanda and Marie had returned from a mission to find that the heater in the Order was malfunctioning; in some places it was incredibly hot, and in others freezing, exactly like the air outside.

Kanda found that his room was one of the cold ones. He didn't care, though; he'd slept in worse conditions. But for some reason that night he couldn't in his normal pajamas. So he dug around in his drawers for that stupid sweater Tiedoll had given to him for his birthday.

He couldn't find it anywhere. He had few clothes other than his uniform, but the sweater just wouldn't turn up. It didn't matter, though. Suddenly a blast of heat raised the temperature in his room and he shed rather than donned.

He couldn't sleep in the heat either, and he cursed Komui for messing with the heater; it was working _fine_ before, why did he have to _repair_ it?

Kanda was actually dozing when a knock roused him. He turned over, ignoring it, but it persisted. He didn't answer it, but, rather than walking away, the knocker opened the door.

He rolled again and found Lenalee standing in the door. She looked tired and cross, and she was _wearing his sweater._

"Why didn't you answer the door?" she asked huffily.

"Trying to sleep," he said shortly, sitting up and wiping his brow. It was still so hot. Lenalee didn't respond; she took off the sweater as he pulled his sweat-dampened hair away from his skin and tied it up. He stared as she dropped the pants she had on under her short nightgown. "What are you doing?" he snapped.

She was left in her normal night clothes. "It's so hot in here," she responded, stating the obvious and not answering his question. She walked toward him. "I don't know how you're dealing with it."

She was gazing down at him oddly and toying with the hem of her nightgown. He didn't respond.

"Kanda –" Lenalee started, but never finished; a blast of cold air made her shiver almost violently. Immediately she got on the bed beside him, not acknowledging the sweat that was rapidly cooling on his skin. "Move over."

He made an irritated noise but did so. He knew telling her to put her clothes back on (his sweater, but still) and go back to her room would do no good, so he didn't. He did, however, stiffen when she said, "I'm cold...but I know a way to warm up fast."

He didn't trust the look on her face; especially so when she reached down and started toying with the bottom of her nightgown again.


	14. removed, also

This "chapter" has been replaced by this text for a few reasons. First, because I don't want to delete it entirely and have everything get off balance (i.e., the reviews would be all screwed up). And second, because I couldn't think about this without cringing or wanting to completely avoid it and never read it again. I wrote these at a time when I was forcing myself to, and forcing writing doesn't lead to good results, for the most part. I still like a few of them, which is why they haven't been replaced, but these? They'll probably never see the light of day again.


	15. The Blue Door

Standard disclaimers apply here.

* * *

_The Blue Door_

The Order held many floors within it; more than Lenalee could ever think of counting. To do so, she'd have to actually go up and down the stairs and go past each level, adding them up in her head. That just seemed tiring and, furthermore, boring. That didn't mean she stayed on a few floors, however, floating between those alone. On the contrary, she tended to wander.

One day, when Kanda had been gone on a short mission and everyone else (she'd want to spend time with) was busy, she set out. She ascended the stairs until she felt she couldn't climb another.

The floor she found herself on was absolutely deserted. Not another soul (living or dead) graced its halls, and she shivered. Before she could turn and leave (run down the stairs to somewhere familiar, filled with people), she noticed something interesting.

At the end of the hall she currently stood in, there was a door unlike the rest. It was closed, which wasn't out of the ordinary, but it was _blue_. Why would someone paint a door blue? The thought idly passed through her mind, but she didn't try to answer it.

Instead, Lenalee approached the odd door. Unease filled her as she moved closer, but she couldn't figure out why. She reached up and touched the knob, drawing her hand back when she realized it warm.

She should have gone back. Nevertheless, she grasped the warm handle and was about to turn it.

"Stop!" barked a voiced behind her, making her jump and yank her hand away. "Don't go in there," it ordered as she started to move to face the other way.

Spinning, she found someone unfamiliar behind her; a man who she didn't know. And, really, she didn't want to, because the expression on his face was very unfriendly.

"You must never go in that room," he told her, and she silently nodded, dashing off when she saw he would say no more. He watched her go past, not bothering to follow her.

That evening, Kanda returned; he came back very, very grumpy. Despite that, Lenalee ran up to him.

"Kanda!" she cried, making him flinch at how loud her voice was; she quieted considerably after that. "I found a room with a blue door today, but before I could go in someone stopped me, and –"

"So?" he returned, irritable and not interested in this door.

"I _want_ to know what's in there."

"Then go back and look."

"I'm...too scared."

"Then don't." Lenalee made a frustrated noise, and Kanda gave her a tired look.

"No, you're going to come with me when I go back tonight." She stated this so firmly that he knew there was no room for argument, and acquiesced, sighing.

Lenalee ended up gripping his arm as they went back up to the floor. Kanda grumbled the whole time.

The darkened hall felt menacing somehow, and she almost turned around; then she remembered how mad he would be if she did. She could handle him if need be, but it didn't seem like a good night to get on his bad side.

She did stop, however, when she noticed a little sliver of light at the bottom of the door. Was someone in there?

Kanda was unperturbed, unimpressed, and impatient, so instead of waiting for her, he went up to the door alone. He hesitated like she had when he stood in front of it. When he touched the knob he drew his hand away, but defiantly grabbed it and twisted it.

"Wait! Don't –" Lenalee started, but it was too late: he'd opened the door.

For a moment they hand to cover their eyes, then blink a few times to let their eyes adjust to the sudden, harsh light. She moved to enter the room, but stopped in the doorway.

It was absolutely empty. Disappointment welled up inside of her; she'd thought there'd be at least _something_. An irritated noise behind her made her turn.

"You brought me up here for _this_?" He didn't sound happy at all. "I'm going back to bed."

"Wait!" she cried again, taking one sweeping look around before turning and following him. Her nightgown fluttered as she ran to catch up; she grabbed his hand when she reached him, and he didn't shake it off. He barely seemed to notice; his focus lay on getting into his bed.

As they descended the stairs, both completely forgot that the door stood open. Their footsteps covered up the creaking sound it made as it slowly swung closed. The blue door was shut again, and the light went off. Unbeknownst to them, in another part of the Order, a man dusted off his hands.

"There," he said, "it's empty now. I'll put all of this back after a week or so; that little girl will have lost interest by then."

"You can't keep it _here_," the other person told him, not wanting the boxes to take up space; also, they worried him.

"Where do you suggest I put it?"

"Oh, fine. Just leave it there. It should be okay for a week." A nod as they left the room, shutting and locking the door.

The room was dark when they got back to it, and his bed was still unmade. "Sorry," Lenalee mumbled as they got back into it. He made a noise to indicate that he heard her, but also that he accepted it her apology.

"Just go to sleep," Kanda muttered, curling up and already half-asleep. She followed suit and dozed off quickly; she dreamed of that room with the blue door, but had already forgotten about it when she woke up.

She saw the man carrying boxes up the stairs one day about a week later but didn't think anything of it. She wasn't interested in it anymore; after all, it was just an empty room on a deserted floor.

* * *

Notes: Wooooo, 15. What was it that was in there, you ask? Whatever you want it to be. :) I wanted to keep it vague. And write a kidfic/one-shot. Because it's been awhile...sort of, since I've written a kidfic. They're young here, eight and ten again because I like writing them as that age for some reason. I'm not sure about the ending, but I had a hard time with that. I couldn't think of how to end it. So there's that. Thanks for the reviews~.


	16. blood vengeance

Standard disclaimers apply here.

I'm taking a medieval romance class this semester, and so far we've only covered _Erec and Enide_ by Chrétien de Troyes_. _I'm mentioning this because this is based heavily on that and the style it was written in (and in the middle ages, creativity was taking something that was already written and adding to it). Plus, I spent so long struggling with writer's block and this and that, and then I thought, as I went to do my reading last night, "Why not do something courtly-love-ish? It'd be fun." And this was fun. A lot of fun, really. It's more _Erec and Enide_ than anything (and maybe influenced by _Beowulf_, with the title and all - a term from lecture, haha), but anyway. It's all "son of" because that's how everyone introduced themselves. No one appears to have had a surname, but maybe I'm forgetting. /too lazy to look

* * *

_blood vengeance_

To begin this tale, it is necessary to take the time to describe the setting in which it will take place: throughout the land there are many forests and as many plains; situated near a village there is a grand castle that stretches across a great plot of land. In it resides the king, a most generous man whom all the people adore; the queen, the most beautiful there has been for generations, graciously reigns and is no less giving than her husband.

Many knights call this court their home as well, for there are many men of valor and strength in the kingdom. Most have maidens that they entertain while there, though they do not solely focus their attention on them. To become and remain a good knight, one must defend their honor through battles, which are hardly few and far between.

One man, knighted young because he had been clearly following in his father's footsteps, unfortunately has disgrace on his head now. Our hero once was renowned and would be looked upon with awe when he would pass others in the court. This is no longer the case, due to current events.

When his father failed to protect his kingdom, the land to the south, immediately all assumed that his son would become complacent and fail to protect; for he was so much like the king of the south that some referred to him as the son of his father over his name. With the king dead after the kingdom was conquered, it was simply insult added to injury when they started whispering behind his back that he would inevitably become weak and therefore no longer commanded the respect he once had.

Few still think of him well; one finds that it would be impossible for her to think of him in a way that wasn't positively glowing or heartfelt. They have known each other from a young age: her father had visited his and taken her along, and they met in his domain. They stayed for a week; after that period of time, her father decided they had been there too long. However, by that point they were quite good friends. She begged him to say that they'd see each other again, foolishly thinking that somehow this would be the last time if she didn't.

He kept his promise to her, indeed, coming to the king's court when the time was right: when he was old enough to become a knight. The king received him happily and he proved that there was nothing lacking in his abilities. His daughter, after witnessing all of this, rushed up and embraced him, so happy to have him there.

Then she asked of him something he couldn't refuse, but was hesitant to agree to do: "Promise me you'll never leave," she begged, gazing up at him earnestly. He could do nothing but pledge that he would always stay in this court after that.

Years later, the news of his father's downfall arrives, and the whispers come with it. He glares and glares, but no one will turn away or retract their words.

"Do not worry about them," she tells him, laying a hand on his arm; they sit together in the garden, in the far part of the court. The tree above them waves in the breeze, and the scent of the flowers a few feet away is brought to their noses. "Everyone knows that –"

But he holds up his hand to make her stop, then removes the one resting on his arm, albeit incredibly gently. "I must avenge my father," he says firmly, not looking at her. He is certain that there are tears shimmering in her eyes, but her voice is remarkably clear when she speaks.

"I know," she responds softly. "You won't be gone long, will you?" He glances over at her to find her watching her hands. She flips them over so her palms are facing up.

"I don't know." She meets his gaze at that, mouth set and eyes dry.

"I will come with you," she declares, determination on her face and in her voice. He starts to tell her no, but she won't hear it. "It will be fine. I know you can protect me." She pauses, and draws in a deep breath. "I don't want to be away from you."

He cannot refuse her after that, nodding slightly. "I have already started preparing to leave. It will only take a day more to finish." She stands at that. "Where are you going?"

"I must speak with my father," she explains, brushing off her skirts. "He will want to know of this."

"I am certain he does," he replies mildly.

"He does not know about my leaving, and I must break that news to him." And so she sets off to inform her father that she intends to follow our hero out into the face of danger; he can only imagine what the man will say in response.

Worse is her brother, who has scared off all suitors who dare set foot on the court. She is most certainly at the age for marriage, but no one is deemed "right." She does not mind, of course; the one she truly wants to marry is very much off their radar at the moment, in that respect.

He has never been so bold as to approach that subject anyway; but his status, as the son of a king, is high enough that the marriage would be suitable. When the neighboring kingdom fell, her hopes were almost dashed, but she knew that he wouldn't give up.

The morning that they set out into is cool; she wears a fine, fur-trimmed mantle over her clothes for warmth. He only has his armor and normal clothes under it: there is nothing else to offer him more protection against the slight chill in the air.

"Are you certain that you want to do this?" her brother asks, almost begging.

"I am, dear brother," she responds, reaching down to stroke his hair comfortingly. "Do not worry; I will be safe." Her brother, for his part, has no doubts either; though the kingdom to the south is now in enemy hands, he has no reason to believe our hero will become indolent. The king shares these sentiments, but wishes she wouldn't go as well. "I've made up my mind," she states firmly, and bids them goodbye once more before they set off.

It takes a few days to reach the southern kingdom, ideally. He warns her that this won't be easy, but she defiantly retorts that she can handle it.

The first afternoon, however, they have to stop for they meet three men blocking the road. Whether or not they are knights isn't clear, but their dress betrays nothing of their status. They do carry shields and lances, like many a knight does, but it is possible that they retrieved them off other knights passing through.

"Stop!" the middle one cries, lifting his lance into the air for emphasis. They do, though he positions his horse slightly in front of hers. "You cannot pass without paying."

"Paying for what?" he replies tersely, irritated that they are being held up like this.

"Paying to get through us!" the middle one nearly yells with a laugh. "Unless you want to fight us, but I suggest that you leave the maiden here and move on."

Our hero bristles at that suggestion. "I will not pay," he informs them, gripping his shield and lance tighter. "So I will have to fight you." The three men are furious at this, not wanting to have to go against him. They are certain, however, that they can beat him and the maiden will no longer be his.

The one on the right advances first, but he is knocked off his horse without much effort on the part of the good knight. His head cracks against the ground when he hits it, and he falls unconscious immediately. The man on the left follows him; the middle one apparently does the talking and lets the others do his dirty work.

This man meets the same fate, though his arm becomes injured when he is pushed off his mount; he does not hit his head like his companion, but he is utterly unable to fight now, with the wound in his arm.

The middle one looks at both men on the ground, and then sees the knight advancing on him. He flees, and is almost pursued, until she calls, "Stop!"

He pulls his horse around to see her, and she is shaken by all of this. He almost says that she shouldn't have come, based on her reaction, but she goes on.

"There is no reason to follow him," she tells him firmly, sounding angry. "He did nothing to you, and these men are no threat anymore."

He narrows his eyes. "What he said –"

"It does not matter now." She clearly will hear no protests. "I have already said that I know you can protect me, so I was not worried by his words."

Irritation growing, he turns, saying, "Hurry up. We have lost more time than we can afford."

He hears no response, but knows she follows, for the sound of her horse's hooves is clear in the silence. They travel farther and farther until night is about to fall. She shivers despite her fine mantle.

"What shall we do?" she asks, not seeing buildings of any sort nearby.

"We will have to stop here," he informs her. He dismounts and helps her dismount as well; he observes that she has no visible objections to this, which he almost expected. She is a maiden, but in the face of certain situations she shows no cowardice and will not shrink back.

"I will stay awake," she says with a smile, "so rest knowing that nothing will happen." He nods, not about to argue with her; if it is her wish, then he will obey it.

Her presence beside him lulls him to sleep, and when he wakes up in the morning he finds her still alert. When he sits up, she starts a little, but then her smile returns.

"You didn't need to do that," he tells her, stretching.

"I wanted to," she responds. He glances over at her, and she pushes some of his hair back out of his face. She starts to withdraw her hand, but he grabs it and holds it in his. If she is surprised, she doesn't show it.

As they stare at one another, before anything else can happen, the steady sound of hooves hitting the ground fills the air. He is up like a shot, grabbing his shield and lance; it is never clear if the person coming is friend or foe, and it is necessary to be ready.

As the person comes into view, he suppresses an annoyed noise, for he does know this person; he is no enemy, certainly. However, our hero only begrudgingly thinks of him as a friend.

As the other nears, he sees that he is alone. Usually he doesn't travel without accompanying knights, but he is a man from his father's court, and that court is not longer in existence.

He stops his horse in front of the two, she still on the ground; he smiles at the maiden, who isn't sure how to react. She does not know him, but manners make her bow her head a bit.

"Yuu!" the man cries, excited when he notices our hero finally. He dismounts and runs over to embrace him, but he is met with a shield in his face. The other stands back and crosses his arms. "Is that any way to treat someone who defended your father until the end?"

"Don't speak of my father," he snaps in response; "and don't refer to me that way." After a moment, she stands and walks up to them.

"Would you rather I call you son of Kanda?" the other asks, an odd expression on his face. He jumps back, avoiding the lance by a hair. The one holding the weapon is bristling but doesn't know what to say.

The maiden lays her hand on his arm. "Yuu." She speaks firmly though her voice is soft, and he retracts his arm without another word from her. "Who is this?" she wants to know, happy to not have to badger him to lower his weapon.

"Oh, I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Lavi, son of Bookman," he tells her with a flourish, bowing slightly. Her eyes widen a bit.

"You're Lavi?" she repeats, not quite believing him. Lavi, son of Bookman, has quite the reputation throughout the land; handsome, chivalrous, and strong, his name has spread far since he has become a knight.

"Yes," he affirms with a smile. "What is your name, fair maiden?"

She seems to hesitate, but then clearly states, "I am Lenalee." She gives no more than that, but she need not.

"Lenalee, daughter of the king?" She nods. Lavi turns back to Yuu. "What are you two doing out here?"

"I am going to avenge my father," Yuu informs him tersely. Lenalee's hand is still on his arm, but he doesn't make any sort of move to push it away.

"Are you married?" Lavi inquires, instead of addressing the mission. Her cheeks color a bit and he has no words for quite some time. The smile on the son of Bookman's face widens.

"No," Yuu finally replies him, glancing away. She removes her hand from his arm.

"Oh? Then why is she with you?"

"I wanted to come with him," Lenalee answers before he can. This satisfies his curiosity, apparently, for he changes the subject.

Lavi becomes serious. "It won't be easy to defeat the man who took your father's place. He was very strong: ten men could not hold him back."

"It must be done," Yuu says. There is no hesitation, no uncertainty in his voice. Lavi, son of Bookman, sets his lips in a line.

"I will accompany you there, for I know how he fights." He is firm in his conviction, and will not be left behind. Our hero sighs and moves to gather up his things.

"Do not get in my way," he warns as they all mount their horses. He watches Lavi help Lenalee onto hers with a scowl on his face, but does not address it. They set off, though she is quite tired at this point.

They reach a town by nightfall, but it is guarded. "You cannot step inside these walls," the knight outside of the doors tells them, "without an invitation."

"What would happen if you fought and lost to someone? Would you let them in then?" Lavi asks with amusement. The outcome is clear to him, as he has known Yuu since they were both children; longer than he and Lenalee have known each other.

"Lose? Ha! I'd like to see you try," the knight returns with a sneer.

"I won't," Lavi tells him with a grin.

"Then who will?" the guard inquires, not seeing any challenges in front of him. It is then that he sees Lenalee; she has been shielded by the two until that moment. "Ah, the maiden," the man suddenly bursts out, "can enter the town. But you two cannot, unless one of you thinks that you can win in a battle against me."

"I will," Yuu states shortly. The knight barely glances at him, his eyes glued on Lenalee.

"If you'd like to try, then I will not stop you, but rest assured that you will not win." He tears his eyes away to instead look at our hero. Now that they are face to face and clearly in each other's sights, he starts in.

The aim their lances but neither lands a hit: the shields break as they stop the blows, but the men do not heed that.

Lavi and Lenalee stay back and watch as the two viciously attack the other.

"I wish he wouldn't," she mutters, exhausted at this point.

"Afraid he'll lose? Yuu never does."

"I know that," she almost snaps, then bows her head in apology. "I do not see why there has to be all of this fighting; I know we are going so he can avenge his father, but this is unneeded."

Lavi understands her sentiments but offers nothing in response. After a pause, he questions, "Do you love him?"

Lenalee's gaze lands on him at that; she had not been expecting such an inquiry. "Yes," she admits without a second thought. "I'm not sure that he loves me, but I love him." She can't quite read the smile on Lavi's face at the moment.

"You should not worry," he reassures her, but stays quiet afterward. Before she can demand what he means, a shout indicates the victor of the battle.

The beds they sleep in that night are soft and fine, and the blankets keep them warm. All are hospitable, since they rarely receive guests: the knight that guarded the door never let anyone in. He has been stripped of his post after having lost to Yuu, and they all rejoice.

On the third night they finally make it to the southern kingdom. They slow their horses and move carefully as they get closer to the castle, taking in the almost desolate landscape. The houses they pass by are empty, save one. As they amble, the door flies open. Lenalee is closest to it and Lavi and Yuu almost scramble to get in between her and whoever it is that stands there.

It is not someone who means harm, however, and when the two advance, he cowers.

"Arystar?" Lavi says after a moment, a little surprised. The man lowers his arms and he looks up warily. The two still have their weapons up and ready, and he seems frightened.

"D-don't hurt me! I just wanted to offer you my home for the night, so you can rest here," he sputters out all in one breath. Lavi makes a motion and Yuu heeds it after a pause, lowering his lance. The man seems more at ease, but only a little. "Won't you stay?"

Arystar, son of Krory, a young widower, is the only one left in the town. He can't bear to leave, for he can't part with all of the memories of his lovely wife. He has stayed out of the usurper's radar thus far, but is suffering because of it. He can offer them no food, but they were given much to carry with them in thanks from the town they rested in the night before. He is absolutely ecstatic to see the variety set out in front of him, but waits until he is given the word to eat; he doesn't want to offend his guests.

"Are you here to take back the kingdom?" he inquires later than night, as they sit around a small fire. Yuu is solemn.

"I am here to avenge my father," he tells the man, and Arystar comprehends his words.

"Good luck," he says, as cheerfully as he can.

When they retire to bed, there has been a misunderstanding. He shows Lenalee and Yuu to the room he shared with his wife, thinking that it would be better to give it to them than stay in it for another sleepless night. He wrongly assumes that the two are married, but they say nothing of it. Lavi wears an amused expression, and Arystar becomes bemused; Lavi just claps a hand on his shoulder and leads him away.

They sit on opposite sides of the bed, facing away.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he states suddenly, but she won't have it.

"No, you'll stay up here." Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, "With me." His hand is covered by hers, and he glances up to find her closer than he anticipated. "Yuu," she says, her voice much softer, "do you love me?"

Yuu stares at the wall; he doesn't know what to say to her. Indeed, he does; he has since the day he set foot on her father's court and saw her for the first time in years. But he cannot reveal such a thing; not now. He must restore his name above anything else.

When she moves closer and presses against his back, however, it is hard to focus. She murmurs something that he can't understand, and when he turns, she kisses him on the mouth.

The next morning they awaken under a warm blanket together, neither wearing any clothing. They must rush to dress when they hear voices, and are unable to simply lie there like they had been.

Yuu remembers what he must do that day; his head is clear. He knows he can take on whatever is thrown at him now. The previous night, before they all retired to bed, he and Lavi spoke of the man who killed his father; he revealed as much as he could remember about how the man fought and how he looked. The son of Bookman had an almost photographic memory, so it was quite a long description; Yuu listened solemnly and carefully, not caring about the time it ate up.

Though he tells her to stay back, Lenalee accompanies them to the castle. Arystar follows to see the triumphant victory, because he knows there will be one.

He insists on going in alone, so they all wish him good luck before he approaches the gate. They hang back, aware of the obstacles that lie ahead of him. Lavi glances over at Lenalee, who appears pensive but not entirely worried. She does seem sad to see him ride away.

"He'll be back," Lavi reassures all of them, even if they don't need it: they are certain of the outcome.

When he reaches the court that morning, he finds it quite empty, though it is early. Yuu watches everything around him warily, clutching his lance and Lavi's shield; his hasn't yet been replaced. When he encounters no one for a long time, he becomes suspicious.

When he enters the castle, he identifies five men in the hall in front of him. One by one he takes them on and removes them from his path, asking the last one, "Who wrongfully sits on the throne now?" Lavi did not know his name for he had to flee before the man said it. If had he stayed, he would have been killed.

The man sputters and chokes from the hand on his neck, but manages to get out, "Skinn, son of Bolic." Yuu drops the man to the ground without mercy, and stalks away. He sees his father's sword mounted on the wall and grabs it down: it never failed his father, so it shouldn't fail him. He cannot figure out why it was there, but wonders no more as he reaches his father's old room.

The chamber is dark and almost feels damp when he enters. His eyes have to adjust to the change in light, but before they can, he sees a massive figure hulking toward him. Raising his shield and lance (the sword next to his on his belt), he parries the attack, which is from a hand.

"Who are you?" he demands immediately, lunging forward with the lance; he assumes that this is who the man from the hall named, but cannot be sure. The man catches his lance in his hand and laughs before breaking it without any effort on his part.

"I am Skinn, son of Bolic," he replies, dropping the pieces of the former weapon. "Who are you?"

"I will tell you my name when I defeat you," he responds, drawing his sword instead. When he thrusts it at the man, it nicks him but does little else. He laughs again, like he is being tickled.

"Defeat me? No one can defeat _me_," the man boasts, not bothering to react to the sword coming his way. It bends when it hits his torso, and Yuu tosses it away without a thought.

"I will," he promises, and draws his father's sword. Skinn's eyes widen at this. Our hero knows why; the sword glints in the low light, hungry for the man's blood.

"Where did you get that?" He recoils like a coward, eyes glued to the large, sharp blade.

"From the mount in the hall." Yuu advances, grip sure on the sword's hilt. He has figured out how this man was able to steal the throne from his father: this sword was hanging on the wall rather than sitting near the king of the south; if he had been able to use it, the outcome would have been clear. He would have defeated this man, because no one can stand up to this sword.

Skinn backs up against the wall, weaponless; he was arrogant enough to think that he could stand up to anyone and anything with only his hands. He meets his fate, but not before learning the man's name.

"I am Yuu," he informs him, drawing the sword back to properly angle it; "son of Kanda." One strike and it is over, with the man who killed his father shrinking to the ground as the lifeblood drains out of him.

When he walks out of the building and into the courtyard, his three companions are there waiting for him. He is covered in blood, though none of it is his; Lenalee runs up and embraces him nonetheless.

"You were in there for so long," she murmurs, still clutching him. Though aware of the two men not very far away, he wraps his arms around her as well. They stand there as the sun peeks out from behind the clouds and bathes the courtyard in light.

A horn sounds thanks to Arystar and soon people swarm the area, joyful to be home. All wish to see and speak to the man who did this, but he is nowhere to be found. Lavi notices that Lenalee is gone as well and smiles, but shakes his head when someone asks what he's thinking about.

And so Yuu restores his honor and regains his father's land; he is no longer whispered about or looked upon with disdain, and he and Lenalee never part again.


	17. over a cup of coffee

Standard disclaimers apply here.

After I had so much fun writing _blood vengeance_, I thought it would be fun to write another AU one-shot, but I didn't want to do any of the common times and places. So, I actually went to look at time periods and did some research. When I stumbled across the coffeehouse in England, I loved the idea and went with it. It took some time to figure out exactly what I wanted to write about, and how, but this is what resulted. There are more notes at the bottom to explain some things. It also got insanely long because I didn't want to just jump right in. It's sort of episodic, but I couldn't write it any other way. I might change the title, but it took me forever to settle on anything, so I don't know if I'll come up with something better.

* * *

_over a cup of coffee_

Lenalee Lee was best known as the mistress of Lee's, one of the most popular coffeehouses in London. Most women were banned from them, but her parents started the establishment, and her father had seen her staring longingly into the room more than once.

After her fifteenth birthday, he put her in charge of serving the demanded beverage, though initially most men ignored her in favor of her brother. Her parents died when she shortly after her sixteenth birthday, from an outbreak of influenza; she and her brother, Komui, miraculously survived. They decided to carry on, their parents forever in their thoughts.

Day in and day out, men came into their place, drank coffee, read newspapers, played cards, and spoke of current events. She learned much from simply flitting around the room, even if the men still didn't always acknowledge her presence.

Life was going well for awhile, but they began having a hard time making ends meet, despite the coffeehouse's popularity and patronage. They decided, after a long discussion and short argument, to take in a boarder. It was hard finding one, as every man who came through the door would take a second look at Lenalee in a manner that Komui didn't like.

Finally the day came where a man not unlike them walked through the door and scarcely glanced in her direction. Komui accepted him in immediately, but made it clear that he should stay away from his sister despite his previous lack of acknowledgement. The man's eyes fell on her then, and she turned away. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable, but her brother had already made his decision.

The boarder stayed in a room above the main one, directly across from hers, and kept somewhat irregular hours. In the first week that he was there, Lenalee awoke in pitch darkness to hear him walking up the stairs. Never did he light a candle to help guide him through the house. He simply seemed to know it after the first day.

He never explained what he did, or offered any information about it. He went about his business, but the aura of mystery seemed to bloom. It compounded after the first week ended.

Lenalee had been washing dishes one afternoon; it was the middle of the second week the boarder had been there. When the door opened, her eyes flitted over to it, and she dropped the dish she had been cleaning. He had blood all over his hands.

"W-what h-happened?" she stuttered, shocked and afraid. She took a step back when he moved forward. He didn't say anything, just grabbed a rag and wiped his hands off on it. When he started to leave, she called after him, "Wait!" She wasn't sure why, because she felt so disconcerted around him. Still, she couldn't ignore it. "Are you all right?"

He was almost facing away from her, enough that she could only see his profile. His gaze moved and landed on her, and she almost shivered at its intensity. He simply nodded and continued on his way. Lenalee stood there for a good half hour, trying to figure out what to make of what happened.

When her brother came in, she said nothing of it. Even with the feelings she got around him, she didn't want to have to go through the whole process of finding another boarder. She was certain that, with time, it probably wouldn't be as bad.

* * *

The patrons of the coffeehouse varied greatly. No one was refused, as long as they could pay (and sometimes Lenalee would leave it be anyway, which was part of the reason why they were having trouble; Komui did the same thing, however, so they held the blame equally). There were some regulars, some who came in once or twice a month, and newcomers who poked their heads in the door every day.

On a warm day, Lenalee had to come into the front room and see what all the fuss was about: she could hear them talking from the back. She saw the cards laid out in front of them and didn't see how that made a difference, but then she saw him.

Another newcomer: a boy, probably her age. He gathered up and shuffled the cards like a pro, an odd smile on his face.

She put her hands on her hips. "What's going on here?" she demanded, tired and irritated that she was pulled away from what she had been doing. All eyes fell on her, standing there in her plain dress, her hair tied back.

The only sound was that of the cards as they came together as the boy shuffled. Finally, one man in the back spoke up: "They claim he was cheating, but he wasn't. He's just better than everyone else here."

That received some response, but Lenalee hardly paid attention to it. Another newcomer: older than her, maybe, with a patch on his eye. He smiled at her when he saw that she was looking, and her cheeks reddened, but she returned in.

Then she took control. "All right!" she nearly yelled, for the din had become so great that if she had spoken in a normal voice, she wouldn't have been heard. "If you don't settle down, I'll send you all home and close the doors."

The men acquiesced, much to her surprise. She expected a few challenges, but it seemed that they wanted to get back to their game – they wanted to beat this newcomer.

"You certainly command a lot of respect." Lenalee jumped; having been preoccupied with scanning the room, she hadn't noticed the other newcomer walk up to her. "Excuse me. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all right," she said with a smile, waving her hand a little. It was red and dry from all of the dishes she had to do, but it was part of life, as far as she was concerned. Remembering his first comment, she replied, "Oh, I don't know about that. They're just keen on getting back to their game."

"I wouldn't say that," he told her, mirroring her expression. "A few of them were looking at you like – "

"Lenalee!" The pair swiveled to find Komui rushing into the room. "What happened? I heard commotion."

"It's nothing to worry about," she assured him. "Just some rowdy card players."

His eyes then narrowed at the man next to her. Komui took in his appearance – very casually dressed, his hair a bit of a mess – and acted suspicious. "Who are you?" _And what are you doing with my sister?_ He didn't say it, but there was no need to voice this: it was obvious how he felt.

"I'm Lavi," he introduced himself with a sort of a flourish. "I've been travelling all over Europe. Met Allen a few days ago." He jerked his head in the direction of the other unidentified newcomer, who was currently studying his cards very innocently. "We're headed in the same direction." He offered no more explanation.

They were silent for a few moments. Lenalee broke through it with, "Why are you travelling?"

"My Grandfather died recently and left me a lot of money. He said I needed to leave home before I could truly be worthy of it." He shrugged his shoulders at that, a careless grin on his face.

A cry caught their attention again, for it seemed that no one could handle the fact that the newcomer was beating them without even trying. Komui immediately stepped in, and Lenalee excused herself back to the dishes.

She couldn't keep herself from stopping and asking Lavi, "How long are you going to be here?"

"No set plans," was his rather vague answer, but she nodded, smiled, and disappeared into the back, away from the noise.

* * *

Rarely was there a day when Lenalee could sit down and relax. But Komui insisted that she take the day off, despite her protests. He assured he could handle it; she was mostly certain he could, but she hated to pile all of the work on him.

She stayed in that time, slipping into her brother's room and pulling out a few of the books and pamphlets he had there. She had no formal education, but did have the chance to learn how to read, which was how she liked to spend her free time. Some of the older books would take her away from her stuffy room into another land and time, though she was perfectly happy where she was, and these temporary getaways were all that she really needed.

She had immersed herself so thoroughly in the text she was reading that she didn't hear the heavy footsteps up the stairs, nor did she feel the presence in the doorway, nor his eyes upon her. A cough roused her, though he hadn't done so to get her attention.

The boarder stood in the hall, the harsh light from the window falling upon him. Though there was no blood on his hands, Lenalee could tell something else was wrong immediately. It became especially apparent when he rocked on his feet, like the ground was moving. She shot up from the bed to steady him, as he was right at the top of the stairs.

"What's the matter?" she demanded softly, worried.

"Nothing," he muttered, but shut his eyes, like he couldn't stand the light. Then he raised his hand to his head, covering half of his visage, and she could see that he was shaking.

"Go," she ordered, her tone firm. One eye cracked open to almost glare at her, but she wouldn't back down. "Get into your bed. I'll be right back." She had been holding his arm, trying to keep him upright. He seemed well enough to stand on his own, so she thought it would be okay to let go and run downstairs.

He almost fell on top of her when she did so, but she managed to grab his shoulders. His head slumped forward; she reached to tilt it up and realized what was wrong. His skin was almost hot under her hand, and she knew immediately that she had to get his fever down.

For, despite how irrational it was, she thought of her parents and their sickness and death. Though the boarder didn't inspire comfortable feelings in her, she didn't want another person to die under their roof. So, she gently pushed him toward his room, opening the door without looking first.

Stepping inside, Lenalee tripped over something, but she didn't get a chance to see what. He woke up from his daze and snatched up whatever she caught her foot on. He shoved it in a bag near the door and turned to her.

"Leave." He tried to force her out thusly, but she held strong.

"I will not," she declared. "Not until you get into that bed, at least." This suggestion made him uncomfortable, it seemed, for he almost fidgeted and wouldn't meet her eyes. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

"Fine!" he snapped, causing her to flinch out of surprise, and at his tone. He wasn't acting like himself, she thought; that fever must really be bad.

"I'll be back in a minute," she informed him, exiting the room once he'd situated himself on the bed.

When she returned, Lenalee found him asleep. She stopped and stared; she'd never really gotten a good look at him before. There was always something that made her turn away. Now there was nothing that could make her do that.

It was odd, how peaceful he seemed; of course, he was sleeping. She took a step closer, and then another. His eyes remained closed. When she reached out to brush a bit of his hair back, his body began to rack with coughs, and he woke himself up presently. She retreated a bit, back to the bowl and rag she'd brought up with her.

He irritably pawed at her hand as she pressed the rag to his forehead, but she shooed his fingers away. "I'm trying to get your fever down," she explained, though it should have been obvious. Normally she might have been intimidated by his dark expression, but somehow, in this context, it amused her. She stifled her laugher, though, lest he get angry.

Lenalee fetched her books from her brother's room, and pulled a chair up to the bed the boarder occupied. His eyes were closed again; she assumed he was asleep and went back to her reading. She became quickly immersed, as before, and nearly forgot where she was.

When she glanced up, she found that he was, in fact, not asleep. He was staring at her, not unlike how she had been previously. She focused on the bowl of water next to his bed instead, and went to that. The intensity in his eyes...it still made her feel so uncomfortable somehow. She wasn't really sure why, because she'd been on the receiving end of many a leer.

She spent the entire night there with him, reading by candlelight as he finally slept; they scarcely spoke when he was awake.

Lenalee dozed off in her chair at some point; she awoke when her head sagged forward. The room was light, but not from the candle: that had gone out awhile ago, if the lack of smoke coming from the wick meant anything.

He lay there, patiently waiting for her, awake and staring at the ceiling. She hastened over and touched his forehead, finding it warm under her hand; but, she thought to herself, her hand was cold. His fever must have broken while she was asleep.

She smiled, happy to have helped someone, and met his gaze. He held it before dropping it, reversing their roles. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, and it was then that she realized she hadn't removed her hand from his forehead.

His grip was firm but almost gentle, and his fingers were warm – it was no wonder, though, as she was quite cold still. She drew her hand back before he could push it away, and let it drop to her side.

"Well, I suppose I'll see how my brother is doing," she stated, sounding and feeling tired.

"You should sleep," he told her, surprising her. Lenalee never expected him to...well, care like that. But she waved her hand and said nothing like that.

"I'll be fine," she responded instead, but yawned heavily. She laughed lightly after, but was resolute. Her brother would probably tell her to go back to bed, and she might do it for him, even though it will have left him with two days of working alone.

He made a noise of disapproval, she decided, but she didn't heed it. She moved to exit the room and descend the stairs, but she stopped herself suddenly, remembering something.

"Oh," she murmured before raising her voice, "I just realized that I've never asked nor heard your name." She spoke no more, assuming that he'd reply even with the lack of a question. However, he stayed silent. She suppressed a sigh and tried, "Well, then, what's your name?"

He told her nothing, not saying a word. She expected he wouldn't speak and was about to leave when she heard only, "Kanda."

She turned back to find him sitting up and staring out the window. She nodded, though he wasn't looking at her, and continued on her way down the stairs. As she walked, she muttered, "Kanda," vaguely intrigued by the name. She had no idea why, but she didn't really feel like she needed a reason.

* * *

In the morning of an unusually slow day, Lenalee was gathering up some old newspapers and trying to make conversation with the few patrons that were there, but none seemed interested in speaking with her. They hid behind that day's papers and muttered to each other, leaving her completely out of the dialogue.

"Good morning!" a voice called behind her, causing her to jump. When she recovered from her slight shock, she found Lavi walking through the door, Allen following closely behind. She smiled at them.

"Good morning," she returned, folding over the large pile of papers into one large, uneven mass. She wiped her hands off on her apron and went to get them the drink the house was known for. Upon reentering the room, she asked, "How are you?"

Though she knew his name, Lenalee had never spoken to Allen before. He was always immersed in the card game, and she was always busy with something else. That day, however, there were no games in sight, and she had little to do – she was only gathering up the papers because she was bored.

Their answer was the same – fine – and they also ushered her to sit between them at once. It was almost as if they were communicating without words. She knew her cheeks were getting red as they settled, but she couldn't help it; certainly, men paid attention to her before, but none had actually brought her to sit with them. It could have been because of her brother's ever-menacing eye, but he wasn't always around, and she couldn't – and wouldn't – blame him for everything related to this.

Lenalee then realized she had brought out three cups, as though she had been inviting herself to drink with them. Neither seemed to mind, however.

"How long have you lived here, Lena?" Lavi asked, after some idle chatter.

_Lena_? was her first thought; she'd never been given a nickname before. She didn't address it, saying instead, "I've lived here all of my life." Her gaze flitted between them before she inquired, "Where are you from?" She looked at Lavi first.

"I've lived in so many places that I'm not sure I know where I'm from anymore," he responded, a playful light in his eye. She pursed her lips, not accepting his words at face value. He'd pointed out something incredibly minute about the day they'd met that she'd nearly forgotten about recently, so she knew his memory was better than that. He laughed a bit at that, apparently reading her expression, and told her – ah, that was why he had that accent.

"And you?" she prompted as she switched over to Allen, interested in learning more about him.

"Northern England," he replied, not elaborating past that. Lenalee recalled Lavi saying that he'd been orphaned and couldn't remember much of his childhood – a fire, it seemed, which was why the flesh of his left hand and lower arm was such an awful color.

She nodded, asking nothing further. They simultaneously brought their cups to their lips, but only noticed it when they'd set them back down on the table. She smiled at them, the two young men she sat between, and they mirrored it.

Movement in her peripheral vision made her glance toward the door to the back. She found Kanda standing there; not in the doorway, though. He was standing behind it, in a shadow. His expression wasn't easy to make out from where she sat, but she could have sworn he was scowling before he stalked away. She pressed her lips together, wondering if he'd done that because he'd seen her turn in that direction.

"-na? Lena?" Lavi's voice brought her back to the present; her sudden, odd irritation didn't wane. Abruptly she stood, surprising Allen, who leaned back to stare up at her, but not his companion, who remained in the same position he'd been in before she'd sprung to her feet.

"Sorry," she said briskly, grabbing her cup of half-drunk coffee; "I have some things to take care of." She paused, facing the front again, as she'd already started walking away, stating, "And please, call me Lenalee."

The kitchen was empty when she arrived in it, and when she peered up the stairs, it seemed that no one was up there either. She eyed the pile of dishes and sighed, wondering when her brother would be back from that trip he left on the day before.

As she washed, cup after cup, Lenalee tried to figure out why she was so intent on knowing the reason behind his scowl. Nothing came to mind. It seemed that, ever since that day she'd tended to him when he had that fever, her awareness of him had changed. Suddenly she was more interested in Kanda, and felt more comfortable around him.

Probably, she mused, because she'd spent all that time near him - in the dark of night, no less.

* * *

Lenalee shivered under the blanket she had; she really needed a new one, but she wasn't sure that they had enough money to spare. She'd seen Komui calculating profit versus how much they needed to pay, and he didn't seem pleased by it.

The moon was out that night for the most part, but it kept ducking behind clouds. Every so often, a splash of moonlight would illuminate a corner of her room, distracting her and keeping her from falling asleep.

A creak on the stairs caught her attention, but Kanda had been out as usual that night; it was probably him coming in. She turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling and hitching the blanket up higher. Footsteps told her that she was right - he was back.

When they came closer and closer to her, however, she was confused. He knew where his room was, so why was he heading in her direction?

It was too late when she realized she was wrong. It wasn't him; his footsteps were nowhere near that heavy, nor was his breath. Terrified, she could hardly find air to breathe, much less call for help.

"This is," the man muttered, stumbling over his words and sounding drunk; "this is for my brother."

A sharp pain in her leg made her cry out. The man wheeled back in surprise, and stood there for a moment. "You're not him." _Him?_ "A woman, huh? Looks like my luck isn't so bad after all."

Lenalee sat up and scrambled back in her bed, but she only trapped herself further. She frantically racked her brain, trying to think of something she could use to stop this man from harming her more.

Before she could come up with anything, she heard a heavy _thunk_, and the man pitched forward. He landed half on her bed, and she lurched back, as far as she possibly could. She wasn't sure what to do.

The moon, which had previously been hiding behind a cloud, revealed itself, spilling cold light into the room. It was then that Lenalee saw Kanda standing there, something in his hands, advancing.

"Wait!" she cried, and he stopped, looking at her. "Don't kill him," she nearly pleaded. She didn't want a murder in her room, after all; and if they found out that he did it, which they inevitably would, she was sure, he would be hanged. And that, above all things, she really, really didn't want to happen.

He paused in the darkness, then flipped the man and yanked him away from her bed. His head cracked against the floor, but Kanda didn't seem to care about that as he dragged him out. After lugging the man (body?) into his room, he came back to her, an unlit candle in hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, surprising her. It wasn't that she thought he was incapable of emotion or caring; she'd never heard him speak in such a manner. Before responding, she offered him a match to light the candle, and a soft glow filled the room.

"My leg hurts," she told him, flipping her thin blanket back and gasping. There was blood, but not much of it. It appeared that he had pierced her leg, but not deeply. She found herself staring at Kanda's back when she forced her gaze go elsewhere.

When he appeared, he had bandages in his hand. _Where did those come from?_ Lenalee wondered, but didn't ask as he wrapped her leg up. His touch was so gentle and almost reverential that the old discomfort nearly started rising, but he was done before it could fully blossom.

"Kanda," she said as he straightened up, almost admiring his work. "What was that all about?"

She watched his expression go from satisfied with the bandaging to agitated from the question. He picked up the candle after gathering up the leftover dressings. She realized that he had no intentions of telling her as he turned and started to leave.

"Stop!" she burst out, then shrank back, worrying she'd woken her brother. After a few tense moments of complete stillness, she knew he remained asleep; had he awoken, he would have run into her room, making as much noise as possible. In a much softer voice, she continued, "Tell me what just happened."

Kanda considered her words, dragging out the silence. "Nothing you should be concerned about," he finally responded, his tone firm. He tried to go again, but Lenalee persisted.

"I have a right to know," she informed him, nearly livid. "My life was on the line not a half hour ago, and you're telling me I shouldn't be concerned about it?"

He moved to face her, their eyes meeting. He revealed nothing through speech, but she had to avert her eyes. There was something different there, an unknown...he left before she could demand more of him.

Lenalee didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

Perfectly shaken throughout the next few nights and days, she had trouble keeping up with everything. Calming the men who had been riled up by the card game was that much harder when she was so tired, but they soon realized that the mistress had quite the temper now. She threatened to kick them all out and close the doors if they didn't act civilly, and by her stance and expression, they believed her.

Lavi stood back and watched this all with amusement. On the third day, as she passed him in his usual spot where he leaned against the wall to watch everyone else, he remarked, "Are you making sure they know who's in charge, or is something else going on?"

She gave him a look that told him not to bother her, but answered honestly, "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Why not?" Concern was present on his features and in his voice, but not overly so. Lenalee wiped her hands on her apron and sighed.

"I don't want to talk about it here." _Or at all_, she added in her head, but she knew that Lavi wouldn't let it slip that easily. She paused. "Would you and Allen like to come have dinner here tomorrow evening?"

He raised his eyebrows at the inclusion of his companion, she assumed, but she'd never seen them apart before; she thought they were together always, and even if they weren't she wanted them both over. She didn't say this; she simply waited for him to respond, calmly standing in front of him.

He hummed, apparently thinking it over. Lenalee was in no mood for stalling, nor was she feeling playful, so she stood in her place, watching him unflinchingly. Lavi seemed to realize this, for he finally relented and said, "I would, but I can't speak for Allen."

"Well, ask him later," she told him, sounding impatient and realizing it. She murmured something like an apology and moved into the back, however; she had things to do and didn't have time to make idle chatter.

She came back out in front an hour or two later, checking up on everything. Her threats and new demeanor had created a very civil atmosphere, indeed, but then she realized that Allen wasn't playing cards anymore. It became clear why there was no mounting tension. She scanned the room for them, but it seemed they were gone.

She was quite irritated by this, because Lavi hadn't given her a specific yes or no, and she couldn't very well start planning a dinner tonight if they didn't intend on being there the following one. And if they came in the next day and claimed they agreed to, she wouldn't even have time. As she moved to stalk back into the kitchen, she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of one of the books she liked to read occasionally.

A note. How he knew that this was her favorite book of the ones in the main room, she didn't know. Still, reading it made her feel that much better. They would be there; sorry they had to leave so quickly, but they had to be somewhere else. After smiling and tucking the note into her apron, she walked into the back – and almost into Kanda, whom she had been avoiding.

"Oh!" she breathed in surprise. "I'm – sorry, I didn't know..." She hesitated and trailed off, not looking at him. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn't want to meet them.

After that night and the sleepless ones that followed it, she had become more and more infuriated at him for not revealing what happened, or why it occurred. He didn't say where the man that he rendered unconscious had gone, nor what he might or might not have done with him. They didn't speak to one another at all, in fact.

He muttered something she didn't catch, but when she glanced up at him, his eyes were elsewhere. She frowned.

"I'm sorry?" she tried, but he didn't reply to it. "What did you say?" she asked instead, knowing a more direct question would receive an answer.

Kanda faced her again, but she fixed her gaze on his instead of letting it flit away. He wasn't intimidated or particularly urged forth by it.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Lenalee felt that he wasn't repeating himself. "What's in your apron?" His tone held suspicion to it, and she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why.

She gave him another question instead of an answer. "What, this note?" She saw no reason to hide it; after all, it wasn't as though it would be a secret. "Lavi left it for me. I invited him and Allen to dinner tomorrow, but they had to leave before they could speak with me about it."

At this, he opted for a darker expression, frowning. He seemed about to say something, but instead he turned and walked away. When she called after him, inquiring where he was going (because she was annoyed that he left like that, that was all), he told her it was nothing she should be concerned about.

Frustrated, she stamped her foot and actually made him stop; when their eyes met once more, he sensed her anger and left, letting the door slowly close behind him.

Once he was gone, she sighed and plucked the note back out; after rereading it, her smile was restored, and she set out in to the kitchen, thinking about the next night (and pointedly not about Kanda).

* * *

Lenalee was met with two astonished expressions after she finished her story. Neither spoke for a long time, and she felt uncomfortable under their incredulous looks.

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Allen finally asked, once the initial shock had finally passed.

"I didn't know what to do," she responded, sounding more exasperated than desperate. "I thought I should leave it alone because –"

"Lenalee," Lavi interrupted, adding to her irritation, though she was glad he had chosen to refer to her like she had told him; "this man came into your home, harmed you, and was about to do more. He should be punished for that," he said reasonably, but she shook her head.

"Honestly, I think something _has_ been done. I'm just...not very sure," she admitted. She'd had her suspicions about Kanda since the beginning, and they grew as time went on, especially after this incident. His assumed occupation was filled with untrustworthy men, and whether or not he fell into that category was not clear.

Lavi studied her for a long moment, and she frowned under his scrutiny. "What do you mean by that?"

Lenalee sighed and took their plates. "Would you like some tea?" she offered, thinking it was too late for coffee. She turned her back to them, trying to indicate that she didn't want to talk about this anymore, but they wouldn't have it.

"Answer the question," Allen demanded shortly, sounding terser than he intended. When she glanced back at him in surprise, he realized this and went on, "I – we're – just worried about you, Lenalee," he explained, taking care to include his companion in the statement. She knew that their feelings of concern were mutual and genuine, but she didn't need them.

"It'll be fine," she replied, trying to appease them. "I'm sure he'll take care of things." She wanted to take her words back after they left her mouth, but she couldn't. Because, when she had been relating that night to them, she failed to mention Kanda in all of it – purposely left him out, rather.

She invented an ending, saying that the man was drunk and ended up wandering out again because he forgot where he was and what he was doing. She didn't really want to say that the man had been clubbed over the head and dragged out by their boarder to who knew where; and that, after which, he'd tended to her wound and wrapped her leg with bandages like she'd never seen. They didn't seem normal, that was all she knew.

Lenalee hoped they'd ignore it, but no such luck.

"Who's 'he'?" Lavi inquired. "It's not your brother, because you always call him that or by name," he pointed out, clearly having paid attention to her speech patterns. She deflated a little, sighing like she had before.

"We took in a boarder recently," she explained, seeing no way around talking about it. "My brother accepted him because he barely looked at me when he came in – he'd rejected many before him for doing just that." Subtle amusement played on their faces, as they could clearly imagine what she was describing. They remained serious and silent, nevertheless. "I don't know what his occupation is, but he comes and goes at such odd times. He always has the money for the rent, so that's never a problem.

"But...I didn't tell the whole story," she finally admitted. She proceeded to do just that, leaving no details out and not watching them. "...And that's what really happened," she finished, letting her eyes move up so she could take in their reactions.

Neither appeared happy about the story at all. "You shouldn't be around this man alone, Lenalee," Allen stated grimly, and she hastened to defend someone she never thought she would.

"It's not like that," she interjected before he could say more. "He'd never do something like that."

"How can you be so sure?" Lavi posed this question quite seriously as well, and Lenalee wished she'd never invited them over in the first place. Then she felt bad for thinking such a thing, because she liked them and shouldn't have such thoughts about friends.

Before this could progress to at least an agreement to disagree, Komui came bursting in through the back door.

"Lenalee!" he called, louder than needed; he assumed she was upstairs, despite the light coming from the kitchen. "I brought you something – what are you doing here?"

It would be an understatement to say that he was upset when he caught sight of Allen and Lavi sitting at the table, but when he noticed that Lenalee had a distraught expression on her face where she was sitting across from them, that set him into motion. He literally chased them out, even though she kept protesting. She spent a half hour scolding him for his behavior because he deserved it; she felt like she might be taking her frustration out on him, but that was forgotten as well when Kanda walked into the door.

Everyone stopped. The air was tense, and Komui was on edge already. He eyed Kanda suspiciously, because Lenalee wasn't looking at him; he was perceptive and could tell something had happened, but neither offered an explanation. Their boarder went up to his room and shut the door, and she dodged all of her brother's questions after that.

When she got into bed that night, she heaved a sigh and wondered how the night could have gone any worse.

* * *

The next day the coffeehouse was abuzz with slightly hushed talk. At least, they lowered their voices when she passed, but, after a restless night, Lenalee was too tired to care.

Until Lavi and Allen showed up and the room went silent. The two were agitated already, and rushed over to her.

"You have to help us," Lavi said breathlessly. "There was a robbery in the store next to the building we're staying in."

"What happened?" she asked, shocked and worried by their behavior.

"Can we go somewhere else?" Allen asked; all eyes were on them as they spoke in quiet tones, but the room was so still that they could be heard despite that.

She hurriedly ushered them into the back with her, taking care to check over her shoulder to see if anyone dared follow. No one did, though she could see that they would be straining to hear them. Once they were definitely out of the earshot of the other patrons, she repeated her inquiry, more shaken than before.

"They think _we_ did it," Lavi explained. Lenalee's hand went to her mouth, covering it.

"But you were here," she protested, though they all knew that. Clearly, _this_ was how the night did go worse.

"Yes, but no one else can account for our whereabouts," Allen informed her. "We were blamed because no one knew where we were."

"You could be hanged!" she nearly cried, starting to get agitated. Lavi put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. He didn't seem to be in any better shape than she, but for some reason, that calmed her.

"We know that," he stated, after he was sure her mood had plateaued. "We need you and Komui to say that we were with you."

"Of course!" she immediately responded. "There's no reason why we wouldn't do that."

But then the back door opened, and Kanda stepped through it. Somehow, she'd never been more frightened of him than she was at that moment, because the manner in which he was studying at Lavi and Allen wasn't right. He came closer to them, and then everything started moving so fast.

Lenalee could only watch as he asked for their names - though he focused on Allen more than Lavi when he asked. She couldn't say anything as he said he would be taking them to the police; she did, however, yell, "Stop!" when it seemed like they were going to advance on each other and cause harm.

"Please," she begged, not sure if she was pleading for them to not hurt one other, or for Kanda to not take them away. She decided, in the end, that it was both.

Her pleas were only partially listened to: their intentions to injure were completely gone. They weren't about to go peacefully, though, and one glance had them dashing at once. She heard their boarder swear and follow them; she lurched forward and tried to grab his arm but he shook her off.

In the doorway to the coffeehouse, she stood back and wished that nothing would happen, but she could see them being taken away already – apparently he didn't work alone. So many emotions flowed through her at once, and when Kanda almost instinctively turned back toward the door, their eyes met.

Lenalee broke the eye contact immediately, hastening into the back, where she pulled out a chair, sat at the table, and finally started to weep.

* * *

Never had she felt more powerless in her entire life. No one would _listen_ to her. She kept trying and trying to defend her friends, but all words fell on deaf ears. Her brother got no further, for the man who had been robbed had quite the high standing, and he made sure to "thank" the police graciously. They wouldn't do anything.

Then one man, tired and honest, told her, "If you can find the real robbers, we can let these two go." Lenalee felt a surge of hope in her, but the man made it clear that there would be no effort on their behalf to find them – they already had two men to hang.

She then realized that she'd have to go to the one person she never wanted to go to. She had been avoiding him, with good reason. Now she didn't know what to do or how to approach the topic, but she was certain of one thing: if anyone could do this, it was him.

That evening, when she went home, she didn't even have to search for the person she actually wanted to see. Kanda was sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating.

If he was surprised when she immediately came over and sat across from him, he didn't show it.

"I need you to do something for me," she told him without pretense. He studied her for a moment.

"What is it?"

"Find the real thieves."

The silence stretched before he responded, "They're already in jail."

She felt a wave of frustration come over her, but let it ebb before speaking. "They didn't do it."

"Then who did?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, exasperated. "They were with me that night – we were having dinner. My brother chased them out at the exact time this robbery was said to have happened. They couldn't possibly have gotten all –"

"I believe you." She stopped, surprised at his interruption.

"What?" she asked, not certain she'd heard him right, and also wanting him to say it again.

"I believe you," he restated, not thrilled to have to repeat himself. "But I can't do anything about it."

"Yes you can!" she countered emphatically. "If you find the real thieves, then they'll –"

"They won't do anything." She frowned at him for cutting her off a second time, but also at his words. He returned it before standing and taking his dishes with him.

When he came back around the table, she shot up and snagged his sleeve. "How do you know?" This was used as less of a question and more of a taunt, almost. "When I was there, one man told me – don't interrupt me!" she told him when he opened his mouth. He shut it and waited for her to go on. "He told me that, if we can find the real robbers, they will let them go."

Her grip on his sleeve didn't loosen, but he didn't shake her off, either. After an extended pause, he inquired, "Why is this so important?"

At that, she did let go, and noticed something like...disappointment in his eyes? But she didn't acknowledge it, becoming incensed. "They're my _friends_," she informed him. "I don't want to see my _friends_ getting hanged." She thought she'd made herself very clear, but he still hesitated. "Please," she nearly begged, changing her tone completely. "Do it for me."

Lenalee wasn't sure how or why she knew that tactic would work, but it did. Kanda acquiesced with a sigh and a muttered, "Fine." She was so pleased that she could have kissed him – and she did. On the cheek, of course.

When she pulled back, her hands remained on his shoulders. She couldn't seem to bring herself to fully draw away, especially when she lifted her gaze to his. She wasn't sure what made the difference that night, but the energy she found there didn't make her want to pull away.

He then leaned toward her, and she didn't stop him or move back. Just as their lips were about meet, Komui arrived home. He was singing a song merrily, announcing his presence long before he walked into the door. By that point, the two had broken apart and were a good distance away from one another.

And Komui, after taking in the scene, saw nothing that required his immediate attention (meaning he wouldn't have to run Kanda out of there like he had the other two, because he and Lenalee weren't doing anything; beyond that, he'd chosen him as their boarder based on that fact that his eyes didn't stray to her like the others' had). So he greeted them and walked into the front, setting down the box in his hands and missing the look the two shared before going in separate directions.

* * *

The next day she impressed upon him the time limit they had – the hangings hadn't been scheduled yet, but they wouldn't be too far away when they were. He told her that it would take him time to begin to figure out who could have done this, and she seemed frustrated.

When he stepped toward her after that, she spun and strode away, ignoring what she was truly feeling at that moment.

Lenalee's anxiety grew as each day passed, and the patrons of the coffeehouse noticed her preoccupation. Especially when she almost poured coffee on someone, but more than one person called out to wake her up, and that disaster was averted.

Every night he came home, harassed, tired, and empty-handed, she showed him her back. His control over the situation might have been minimal, but time was so important.

This became incredibly clear when the hangings were scheduled at the end of the month – two weeks from then.

"Do you have _any_ ideas?" She begged him in her mind to say yes, please say yes, but his face was set in a grim expression.

"Nothing specific," was all he would give her in response. He gazed at her as usual; she wasn't sure what to do. All of her emotions seemed to be jumbled up at that moment. She tore herself away, promising silently that, when this was all over, maybe they could explore it.

It was all dependant on whether or not he could find the real thieves.

* * *

Exactly one week before Lavi and Allen were supposed to be hanged, Kanda came through the door with a different air to him, though he didn't look or act entirely unusual.

"Did you...?" Lenalee didn't dare finish the question, almost afraid to.

"Not yet," he replied, and when she deflated, he added, "I have some idea."

"Can't you go do it now?" she asked, knowing she was demanding him to do more than he possibly could. He almost did turn around, but she grabbed his hand. "You don't have to. I know you're tired." She could see the fatigue she felt in him, and didn't want him to push himself further, despite her almost whiny request.

He stayed there, and she didn't drop his hand. The moment was broken again by her brother, who came in from the front. This time he did see her holding his hand; she dropped it immediately but there was no missing it.

"What's going on?" he asked suspiciously, despite his previous ideas about their boarder.

"I was just trying to stop him from overworking himself," Lenalee responded honestly, and Kanda nodded, agreeing with this explanation. Komui accepted it without any more questions, going about his work without another thought of it.

After all, a person will see what they wanted to see, and nothing more or less.

* * *

Three days before the hangings, Lenalee was beginning to lose hope. Every night Kanda seemed confident, but every night he came back without accomplishing his task.

That day, he came back in the mid-afternoon. She was in the back, washing dishes as usual, and dropped one in surprise at his entrance.

"What are you doing back?" she demanded immediately, thinking he had given up.

"I'm finished," he told her, getting a drink of water and speaking no more.

"Finished?" she repeated, confused for a minute. She'd be brooding when he walked in, thinking that her friends were going to die for something they didn't do and there was nothing she could do about it. "You mean...you caught the real robbers?"

He glanced at her, as if to say, "of course." He'd put down his cup in time; still, he hadn't expected her to take a few large steps and throw her arms around him. And when she pulled back, she did kiss him, full on the mouth, filled with gratitude and anything and everything she might have felt.

His arms moved to encircle her, but she had drawn away, thinking she needed to go see Lavi and Allen as they were released. She hastened away, grabbing her cloak and leaving without another word or look behind her.

She expected him to follow her, and was disappointed when he didn't, but didn't go back for him.

* * *

Lenalee spoke to the tired and honest police officer first; he informed her that the men in question had been found with the stolen goods. Just as she started to smile, he told her that they decided it wasn't enough evidence to convict them.

"What?" was her incredulous response, almost yelled. The man seemed to sympathize with her, but couldn't say more, as the police chief came walking in.

"What's all this commotion? Oh, it's you again." His words and gaze were full of scorn. She ignored it.

"Why are you not letting Lavi and Allen go?" she demanded, getting straight to the point.

"The evidence against them is greater than that of the men brought in," he explained shortly, though he clearly seemed to think it wasn't necessary.

"But they were found with the stolen goods!" Her voice was getting louder and louder, and the chief was becoming more and more irritable.

"They were probably planted there by our suspects when –"

"When what? They were brought in the day after this happened, when they were falsely accused! They couldn't have sneaked into someone's home to hide the evidence!"

"How do you know that?" the man returned coolly, not meeting her tone.

"Why didn't they turn it in if they had it there all this time?" she asked quite reasonably. "He said it was in their parlor, so it wasn't as though they couldn't have found it by now."

"Miss." Lenalee spun to find a tall, imposing man behind her. "I'm certain that the two men originally detained committed the crime, so there's no reason to argue about this."

"Yes, there is," she responded calmly. "They were with _me_, having dinner, when this was supposed to have happened. How could they have possibly gotten across town that quickly in order to rob your store – which they'd never do anyway?"

"It doesn't matter," the man said dismissively. "I just know my son would never do such a thing." There was silence in the room for a long moment.

"Son?" she repeated. "Your son did this?" The wheels in her mind started turning. This man's store was probably getting a lot more business now, after all of this. She'd heard, a little while back, that he was having a little trouble, despite still holding a position of higher power. "You...you did this yourself, and then blamed Lavi and Allen for it because it was easy, didn't you?"

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I would never –" He was cut off by a resounding slap to his cheek; anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of her slaps knew that they were quite sharp.

All men in the room stopped and stared at her. The storeowner couldn't seem to speak; he was too flabbergasted to say anything.

"Tell the truth," she told him in a low tone. The men nearby stepped back and away from the aura of anger that came off her in waves. "Tell it so they can let the innocent men go."

"And if I don't?" he replied defiantly, before realizing that his words implied that he _hadn't_, in fact, been truthful.

The one officer who helped her stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. She glanced up at him and weakly smiled. "Well?" the officer prompted, and the storeowner knew he was backed into a corner.

The warm pressure on her shoulder kept her grounded that afternoon, because the elation she felt was almost more than she could handle.

* * *

Lenalee returned home that evening with company. Komui was pacing the kitchen; it was surprising there wasn't a groove in the floor at that point. Kanda sat at the table, pensive but otherwise revealing nothing of what he might have been thinking.

Her brother practically knocked her over when she walked in the door. Their boarder rose from the table, though his expression became a bit sour when he saw the guests. Her brother didn't seem happy, either.

She quickly told him that they'd been kicked out of their building and had nowhere to go; they wouldn't be in London much longer, so please let them stay. She made the face that she knew he couldn't refuse.

"How long?" he inquired with a sigh.

"A day or two," Lavi confirmed immediately, eying Kanda. Lenalee hadn't taken their previous meeting into account, but suddenly she worried that this wouldn't end well. Then he said something that surprised and baffled her: "How does that sound, Yuu?"

"Don't call me that," he snapped back immediately, and she was incredibly confused.

"What?" she began, but didn't let them answer. "Do you two _know_ each other?"

"I also traveled a lot with my grandfather before he died," he explained easily, plucking at his eye patch irritably. "Met Yuu about five years ago when we were in London."

She looked over to Kanda for confirmation, but he didn't say anything.

"I invited him to come back with us," Lavi went on with a bit of a smile, "but he refused."

"But...if you're friends, why did you do...that?" she asked, meaning him taking the two in. She thought he was going to say 'we're not friends,' and it appeared that he wanted to, even, but he didn't.

"I had to do my job," was the only answer he gave, choosing then to ascend the stairs and presumably go to bed.

"Well," she said briskly before anything else could be uttered, "how should we do this?"

* * *

"Can't you stay longer?" Lenalee held each of their hands in the morning light a few days later. They had been cramped in the small space of the rooms above the spacious one used for the patrons; her brother had been sleeping on her floor while the two guests stayed in his room. She knew she was being selfish, but she was also certain of the answer she'd get.

"We'll come back someday," Allen promised instead of saying no. Lavi nodded, smiling as he hitched his bag up and over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, eye sweeping over the façade of the building. "I'll see to it that this place gets fixed up a bit, too." Komui seemed to take offense, but she wrapped her fingers around his wrist; he glanced over at her and understood then that the comment was meant with the best of intentions instead of insulting.

She stepped out to kiss them goodbye, and they returned it at once, Allen kissing her left cheek and Lavi her right. As they walked away, her face felt warm, but that faded after a few moments. She sighed and reentered the room, where men were drinking coffee, conversing, and reading their newspapers as usual. Komui had gone in immediately after the two had left, and was busy in back.

Lenalee couldn't help but feel sad, even if she'd only known the two for a short amount of time. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, but no one was there when she turned. She went to investigate it nevertheless, and found Kanda about to leave.

"Wait!" she called, effectively stopping him. He didn't move away from the door, however. "Where are you going?"

He moved enough so their eyes could meet, but no more. "I have work to do." He left before she could ask more questions, but she wasn't as bothered by it as she could have been.

Perhaps it was because she planned to greet him like she hadn't before when he arrived home, or because he was being _honest_ finally. Maybe it was more than that; so much that she couldn't even begin to name what that might be.

Lenalee didn't have the chance to ponder about it, as a call from the front grabbed her attention, and she went back to doing what she did best: taking control.

* * *

Notes: So. To be honest, I didn't do _extensive_ research on 18th century London, thief-takers (which I didn't reference in the fic, but that's what he was), and coffeehouses. I spent the same amount of time looking stuff up as I did writing, though. Information isn't very specific on some things, and I'm not writing my dissertation (or writing one at all - gah) on this. What I do know is that coffeehouses were where men went to talk, read newspapers, gossip (yes, some sources say gossip), play cards in some places, and, of course, drink coffee. Thief takers were not always "good", so to speak, but "the idea of a uniformed policeman patrolling the streets in order to prevent crime was considered too French", according to one source (Google 18th century London - its daily life and hazards for the article), so sometimes they were relied upon. A person could get hanged (not hung) for robbery, but apparently not all death sentences for such things were carried out. Most of it I might be stretching, but I don't think specifics about 18th century London are a commonly discussed or known topic. If I inserted any American slang in there without realizing it (and I probably wouldn't, considering), please forgive that.

On Lavi and Allen: I left their relationship vague so it can be interpreted however you want. It could be viewed as homosexual, obviously, but I also think it's just as easy to see it as homosocial (same-sex relationship not of a romance or sexual nature)_._ And at the end, when she goes to "kiss them goodbye," I meant on the cheek, but I didn't feel like putting in "cheek" twice.

Anyway, I'm not one to beg for reviews but I'd really like to know what you think, because I put so much effort into this and it took so long to finish.


	18. clear as a bell

Standard disclaimers apply here.

* * *

_clear as a bell_

The church bells rang that morning; the sound reverberated all throughout the town. It was curious, because it was the middle of the week. Lenalee glanced at Kanda, who was looking in the other direction at something she couldn't see.

"What's going on?" she wondered aloud, partially to herself but mostly addressing him. She received an indifferent shrug; he continued to stare off to their left. She was about to make him turn to her when someone walked up to them.

"Why are you still out here?" the old woman asked, concerned. She wrung her hands under the shawl draped over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Lenalee said, confused, "but I don't know what you mean. Is something going to happen?"

"Yes!" the woman cried, not ashamed to have raised her voice like that. "We have to get inside. Something's coming."

"What is?"

"Just follow me!" The woman bustled away, not checking to see if they were. Lenalee blinked a few times, not sure what to think. She then started after the odd person; even if she seemed a little off, she knew more than they did.

"Kanda," she started, "what –" She stopped when she realized he wasn't walking next to her. In fact, he hadn't moved from his careful observation of...whatever was in the distance. She frowned. "Kanda!" That got his attention. "Hurry up!" He didn't budge; he didn't appear to want to follow that woman at all.

Lenalee came back toward him, and he opened his mouth. She wouldn't hear any excuses, however; instead, she grabbed his hand and all but dragged him with her.

"What are you doing?" he demanded irritably. He didn't try to remove his hand from her grip.

"That old woman knows something," she declared, tightening her hold. "Better to talk to her than stand around all day." He made a dismissive noise, but didn't counter that.

They'd taken so long that the old woman was nowhere in sight, but Lenalee kept going; she must have been around there. Suddenly, a figure jumped out from the space between two houses, making her jump and him nearly draw his sword. Nearly, because his dominant hand was still in hers, and she held tight when she realized what he was doing.

It was only the old woman; she apologized many times for frightening them, and said that this was her home. She invited them in, but both were wary to accept it at this point. Kanda's doubts had infected her as well.

Then the first fat flakes of snow began to fall. The aged lady became upset.

"See? I told you something was going to happen! Get inside before it gets worse!"

They had no choice but to follow her.

* * *

"My, but it's coming down out there!" the woman cried as she stared out the front window. Lenalee stood to see what she was talking about, but Kanda stayed in his spot at the table, arms crossed.

"Wow," was all she could say in response. It was snowing hard; not a half hour before it had been sunny and comfortably warm. Now there could have been a chill coming in underneath the door; the wind was blowing the falling flakes around as well.

"What's going on?" Kanda snapped.

"This has been happening for weeks," their host explained, hastening over to the stove to pour them some tea. "One day, the church bells started to ring – and no one was ringing them. Then snow started falling – like this – and it wouldn't stop for days sometimes."

"Days?" Lenalee repeated incredulously. Were they going to be stuck in this house for days? She certainly wasn't prepared for this kind of weather; they couldn't just leave.

"Yes, days," the woman confirmed gravely, handing her a cup. "But sometimes it only lasts a few hours. There's no rhyme or reason, so it's impossible to tell when this will let up." She stopped speaking, her voice and expression cheerful.

Silence reigned as she tried and found her tea to be too hot; she hummed as the two Exorcists thought and made eye contact with one another. But there was nothing they could do, so they, too, drank their tea, burning their tongues in the process.

* * *

Their host retired to bed early that night, saying they should take the other room – it was ready for them. She hadn't entered it since they arrived.

There hadn't been much information about what was going on there; they'd been sent out with little idea of what could happen.

"It must be the Innocence that's doing this," Lenalee stated, sitting across from Kanda. He didn't speak; however, his expression said 'what else could it be?' She scowled at him and he mirrored it. She let her features smooth, remembering what happened before this near blizzard started. "Oh, by the way, what were you looking at earlier?"

"I thought I saw something," he responded vaguely, leaning back in his chair. She leaned forward, waiting for elaboration, but nothing came.

"What do you mean?" He glanced over at the window; it was dark but the snow made it seem lighter outside.

"I don't know what it was," he told her. She sighed, knowing she'd get nothing more than that, no matter what she did. Instead, she tried to interpret his words, because there was usually something below the surface.

Finally, she stood. He gazed up at her. "We can go see what it is when...this ends." She stretched and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Good night." He muttered something, and she smiled.

Lenalee wasn't sure what to make of the fact that the room only had one large bed in it. It didn't matter too much, though. She shed her coat because it would uncomfortable to sleep in and wished that there was another blanket, because she felt cold.

Ah, well. Kanda would be there; he would warm her up.

* * *

The next morning, when she woke up, she was almost too warm. She kicked off the covers and sat up, waking Kanda in the process. He followed suit, albeit somewhat irritably.

The snow fell so heavily outside that she could see nothing but white. It was strange; there was something about it that didn't feel right.

Before she could think about it too much, the old woman threw open the door. "Isn't it a lovely day?" she cried, spreading her arms out as if to embrace it. "Oh, my," she then whispered, covering her mouth at the sight of them.

The girl glanced over at her companion to see what might be so shocking. Perhaps it was the fact that they were sharing the bed? But the woman had given them a room with only one; what else could they do? He, too, had taken off his coat, but nothing more; they were both fully clothed.

She reached up to touch her hair to see if that was the problem, but it wasn't especially messy. She was about to ask what was specifically wrong when the woman bustled over to his side of the bed, snatched up his sword, and bolted.

They both yelled out, but the front door flew open, and off she went. Snow blew in heavily, and all they could do was shut it again. Lenalee ran to the window to try to catch a glimpse of anything outside, but it was like a blanket.

"What was that about?" she murmured, confused. Kanda stormed into the bedroom but came back immediately. He had tied his hair up again and donned his coat; when she turned to speak directly to him, he handed her hers. "Oh. Thank you," she said, though her uniform was the last thing on her mind. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Follow her," he returned bluntly, already walking over to the door.

"Wait! We can't go out into that!" She tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't hear it. He pulled it open and stood there for a moment; she expected him to run out, but he didn't. He was waiting for her. She went over with every intention of dragging him back in – no matter what she had to do – but when she reached him, she understood.

The wind was not cold, and the snow hitting their faces did not feel wet. It was all an illusion.

"Let's go," he stated, plunging into the "storm." Fearing they would get separated before they broke free of this fake snow, she grabbed his hand. He didn't shake it off.

* * *

They wandered for hours, or so it felt like. The snow kept pelting them but it wasn't cold; nevertheless, it got to the point where it almost hurt. Lenalee wondered if she had simply imagined the chill the night before, which seemed to be the case. She brought her arm up to shield her eyes and gripped Kanda's hand more tightly.

A whizzing sound to their right caught their attention almost too late. He jerked back and she went with him, but the explosion itself knocked them both off their feet. She landed on her arm, and felt an instant burst of pain, worse than it should have been.

They struggled up, and as they did so, the wind stopped blowing. In front of them were two large akuma – Level 2s. It shouldn't be hard – except she was sure her arm was broken and the pain could interfere, and he didn't have his weapon.

The little old lady appeared, still clutching Mugen. She spun, holding it out like it was a dance partner. He braced himself to run up and snatch it out of her hands when she, too, revealed herself to be an akuma.

"Stupid Exorcists!" yelled the largest one. "You've fallen right into our trap!"

"What trap?" Kanda retorted, trying to figure out how to get his sword back.

"This!" the former aged woman replied, throwing her hands out like she had before. They glanced about themselves quickly to see if any other attack was coming, but nothing happened. The akuma hastened to add, "We have you right where we want you – powerless and weaponless!"

"What makes you say that?" Lenalee inquired, activating her Innocence despite her current state.

"Be careful," he warned softly.

"I'll be fine," she returned sharply, eyes on the enemy in front of them. "Where's the Innocence?" She raised her voice to ask that, but they all laughed.

"Innocence? There's no Innocence here! We've looked high and low and –"

The church bell rang suddenly, sharply, and the snow around them disappeared. The largest hit the one closest to it on the head.

"Fool! That's where it is!" Their former host turned to see what they meant because it didn't understand what they were talking about. It was the opening she needed.

Taking two large steps, Lenalee jumped and kicked the sword out of the akuma's hand, injuring it in the process. Another blow took care of it completely, before the other two could react. By the time they did, she was off, toward the church tower. Kanda stopped them before they could follow her, Mugen back in his hands.

* * *

Getting the Innocence from the bell was difficult with one hand, but she did it. When she landed near him, however, a wave of nausea swept over her. Her arm was definitely broken. She was about to sink to her knees, but he grabbed her elbow – the one on her uninjured arm.

She deactivated her Innocence and leaned on him. She took a few deep breaths before reaching out and gripping his hand again. She felt grounded now.

"Let's go home," she murmured, sounding and feeling tired. He didn't respond, waiting for her to get her bearings; instead, he squeezed her hand once, and she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

_Notes: _I've been wanting to update for a while, but haven't had any good ideas and I didn't want to force anything. Also, college gets in the way (should be working on my phonological sketch, comparing Kannada and English - and yes, I chose the language for its name). Then I saw an omake from the Reverse Novel 3 (or whatever) and it was so amazing (it's linked in my profile, actually) that it spurred me on. It's where the hand-holding comes from. And there's a blizzard here right now. Oh, and though it's pretty clear in the text that nothing went on, the "warm up" line is just "he's warm and being near him will make me warm." That sort of thing. I wanted to be ~subtle~ this time around. It starts in medias res, but not everything needs to be prefaced with "we're going on a mission!" etc. etc. so I didn't have any flashbacks in there.


	19. the status quo

Standard disclaimers apply here.

_the status quo_

It was a well-known fact that Kanda could be very stubborn if the situation called for it. If he didn't want to do something, or didn't like it, nothing could make him change his mind. Well, that wasn't an entirely truthful statement.

Because, indeed, Lenalee could be equally as stubborn as he, and she could be as unmoving if she wanted to be. The one important factor about this was that she could _sway _him into doing anything she felt was necessary; or if she just felt like making him do it.

For the longest time, no one knew about this. They simply thought that some sort of switch would flip in Kanda's head and he would change his mind because he was moody, and that was that. They never suspected anything else could be going on.

Something like this couldn't be kept hidden, but there was no reason to; neither was doing anything wrong, so why try to cover it up? Kanda wasn't keen on everyone learning Lenalee could control him if she chose to, but she changed his mind about that, too.

* * *

The first time the others in the Order suspected that she had some sort of special power over him was when he was fifteen and she was thirteen. It was Jeryy's day off, and the supporting staff made his soba for him.

It was subpar. At best.

He took a bite, and then another. He pushed it away and sat with his arms crossed, looking like a sulky child. Lenalee glanced over from where she had been chatting with Daisya. Kanda didn't get up and leave, which she didn't understand. Nevertheless, she had to ask.

"Why aren't you eating, Kanda?" Her voice brought him out of his reverie, where he had been glaring at the unsatisfactory soba. He frowned at her, and she mirrored it.

"It's not good enough," he announced, loud enough that the kitchen staff could hear him. She stared at him for a few moments; she jerked around after the brief pause, straining to see into the room behind the little ordering window. Indeed, they had heard him; they had taken it personally because they were trying their hardest. One had her hands over her face.

Lenalee turned back to him, solemn. He moved to grab the tray so he could throw away the perfectly good food now, but something stopped him. Or, rather, someone.

"Kanda." To a casual observer who didn't know them, it would seem that her voice was even and normal. The two males with her could hear an underlying firmness, a slightly intimidating tone. His hands remained on either side of the tray, but he didn't move to stand. "Eat the soba."

His frown deepened, forehead nearly creasing. "I'm not –" he began to protest, irritated, but didn't get very far.

"_Eat_ the soba, Kanda," she repeated, her voice changing with her expression: the smile on her face was sweet and calm, but he could see past both. He glared but she didn't back down.

"_Fine_," he snapped, but bowed his head over his food when her look on her face disappeared quickly. She let that be, since he was reaching for the food, like he should have been.

"After you're finished," she told him once he began eating again, "you'll go and apologize to the people in the kitchen." It sounded like a suggestion, but it wasn't; it was clear that he would have to do it or face her wrath. He'd prefer not to deal with the latter that day, so he acquiesced.

Beside them, Daisya initially gaped but then held in a few snickers. He couldn't help himself; witnessing Kanda in a position like this was too funny.

Lenalee smiled at both of them, starting to eat again and picking up the conversation where it left off, as if nothing had happened. The rest of lunch was peaceful.

* * *

When Lavi and Bookman arrived, they didn't meet Kanda right away; he was away on a mission. He came back after Lavi's uniform had been started, and General Tiedoll just happened to pass by before they were introduced properly.

"Oh, Yu," he said, looking at the young Exorcist fondly, "I didn't know you were back. How did the mission go?"

"Don't call me that," he snapped, glancing away. He added in a mutter, "It was fine."

Tiedoll smiled at him. "I'm so glad." Someone came around the corner at the end of the hall and motioned to him. He stated that he had to go and bid all company goodbye, though he had only spoken to Kanda.

The new Exorcists were studying him a little too closely. Lenalee, who was standing nearby, cleared her throat. "Lavi," she started, catching the younger one's attention, "this is –" but she was cut off before she could fully explain.

"Yu?" he supplied, giving a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He stuck out a hand formally, saying, "It's nice to meet you, _Yu_. The old man here is –" And it was his turn to get interrupted.

It was one thing to have General Tiedoll call him by his first name (he hated it, but he could never force the man to stop, as he was his superior), along with other scientists in the Asian Branch (which he hated as well, but that was equally as impossible to change), but this didn't not qualify as _okay_. He wouldn't get away with it.

Mugen was in his hand before he could think; irrationally, he wanted to kill this new person for his misdeed. He was sure he could because he knew he was stronger. He went at the one who had been speaking, the taller but younger one, activating his Innocence as he did.

Lavi reached for Tettsui (which, as far as he was concerned, should be renamed), but he needed not. He saw green in front of him – like a flash – and Kanda no longer held Mugen. He looked as surprised as the junior Bookman when the latter changed a gaze at him.

Lenalee landed neatly on the ground to his right. All of the bandages that remained were still in place, and she was hardly ruffled. There was one obvious difference about this picture.

In her right hand, she held Mugen in a tight grip; clearly, it would take quite a struggle to get it away from her. Lavi waited for Kanda to do just that – try to grab it back – but he didn't. He leveled her with a glare, but this didn't affect her.

"Lavi," she said, as though preceding scene had not occurred, "this is _Kanda_." She emphasized his name, but it did no good; Yu was stuck in his head, despite how homicidal it made him. She gestured to them as she introduced them, then added, "If you'll excuse us, Kanda and I need to discuss a few things in private." Eyebrows rose from the parties she addressed, but she ignored them.

As she snagged him by the front of his coat to drag the protesting male away, Bookman Jr. couldn't suppress the snort that rose. This whole situation seemed so absurd. Bookman took his focus elsewhere before he could contemplate it further.

Kanda and Lenalee disappeared for a while after that; when they came back, he radiated annoyance but was not irate, and she couldn't be more pleased with herself. When Lavi asked where they had gone when he encountered her later, she told him just to the meditation room (excluding the important parts, of course). He accepted it, but with suspicion.

She kept smiling.

* * *

After this, the Order as a whole came to the conclusion that Lenalee could make Kanda do anything she wanted; a few spent hours devising plans where she'd ask him to do humiliating things just for the fun of it. Reever came by one such group and informed them that she would never do that. They disbanded before he could add in his mind, _or at least I think she wouldn't_.

She couldn't actually make him do _anything_. It wasn't like she used this so-called power all the time, either. She had been aware of it for as long as it existed; she could not explain why he allowed and accepted it. Certainly, he would never hurt her, but the way he gave in was just odd.

Not that she minded _at all_. It made her almost happy to know that no one but she could do this without repercussions of any kind. Because that was the truth: anyone else who would try to do what she did would not get grumbling and assent. They'd probably meet Mugen, which she had - because she'd taken it away from him more than once.

Lenalee wasn't a bully; far from it. She only did something when it needed to be done, nothing more or less. Kanda, for his part, never complained or even said anything about it, and because of it, everyone accepted it as the norm.

* * *

Notes: When I saw the amazing omake from Reverse 3, I think, I wanted to write something where Lenalee owned Kanda and he let her. This isn't entirely it, maybe, but oh well. It seems that there are a lot of ~implications~ to other stuff, but that's not what it's meant to be. I'm trying to get away from that for now, just because. The "important parts" neglected are her owning him. And yay no more exams. Woooo, break.


	20. a note

In my rewritng and reworking of things, I'm completely deleting and replacing the old chapters, and therefore purposefully bumping this. _The Glassmaker_ is the rewrite of _The Man in Black_, and is now in the "Chapter 5" slot. Head back that way, won't you?


	21. 21

Standard disclaimers apply here. (This is hashire, of course, but I've decided to be ubiquitosity for a while. Just for a change.)

* * *

You feel the sun on your back. It makes you hot, though the air is cold. You are waiting for him, but you're uncertain as to why he's doing this. You don't need an escort, but he wouldn't hear any of it, so here you are, waiting for him to arrive instead of taking an earlier train alone.

The train pulls in, and people step off it. You look at the faces, wondering for an offhand moment if you'll recognize him. You're on your tiptoes when you think that; you fall back on your heels at the absurdity of it. Of course you will. It's only been ten years. That's not very long.

But it is. It is a long time. You've been married and widowed. You've scrambled to make ends meet for yourself. You've spent nights wondering how you'd make it to the next.

You're so lost in thought that you don't notice him. He exits the train, but doesn't cut through the crowd to get to you. There's a cleared path in front of him, so he walks through that and makes an abrupt left when he's a few feet away from you. He comes up, forming a perfect ninety degree angle, not that you think of it like that. You sense his presence to your right.

You jump a little, somehow surprised to see him. Ten years later, he really isn't that different. You wonder idly how you must look in his eyes, but neither of you says anything about this.

_It's been too long_, you say, smiling. You could hug him or even step toward him, but you stay where you are. He nods a little; you notice because you're watching him so closely. You don't add to your greeting, and he doesn't offer anything. You stare at each other in the middle of a crowded train station.

You feel sixteen again. Mostly because when you were sixteen, you were in this same position: staring at him in a crowded train station. Except it was different.

He left. He had no choice, but he asked something of you when he did go, and you didn't respond right away. You let it hang in the air, and then said no. But you saw him off with a smile and a wave anyway, and have regretted it ever since. You sent him a letter shortly thereafter, but he didn't respond so you didn't send another.

You weren't sure he was still alive when the telegram came a few days ago. Then again, you're sure you'd know if he wasn't.

The conductor yells that the train will be departing soon. A whistle follows that declaration, but neither makes it clear when that time will be.

_Do you want to walk around a little?_ you ask, and when you see his blank expression, add, _Stretch your legs, you know_.

_No_. He speaks finally, but says just that. You wait for more, perhaps a reason why he doesn't want to, but he doesn't elaborate.

He grabs your bags when you reach for them, but you manage to keep one away from him. You thank him, nevertheless, and precede him, swinging the little purse back and forth, back and forth.

_How have you been_? You try to break the tension when silence reigns in the compartment. You don't know what else to say, and you wonder why things are so tense. No, you know, but there's no need to acknowledge it right now. He gazes at you for a moment.

_Fine_, he tells the scenery as the train pulls out of the station. You wait for more again, but do not get it.

You watch the land pass by together until it gets dark. You doze off. He wakes you to eat, though you don't want to. You haven't eaten much since your husband died. Not as a gesture of mourning, but because you seem to have lost your appetite. It's been almost a year since he died. You've lost a lot a weight.

You eat because he gives you that _look_ that makes you mad but doesn't. Your emotions are all mixed up. It bothers you, that light in his eyes, but you're not _mad_. You can't pinpoint what it is that you're feeling.

As the night rolls on and so does the train, you wonder if this was the best idea, to come out here with him. You study his profile as he stares out the window. You don't regret it.

You don't have a conversation as much as throw words back and forth at each other, loosely composed into phrases and sentences. Sometimes they stand alone: one-word responses. It's not uncomfortable.

You fall asleep without realizing it, and don't rouse for the rest of the night. You wake up because he is shaking you. You gaze up at him, eyes still unfocused with sleep.

_Are you okay_? you ask, your voice rough. You clear your throat twice and cough before it feels better. You blink as you do this. He watches you. You look at him expectantly.

_Yes_, he snaps, like it's a question he's heard over and over again and doesn't want to answer anymore. He pulls the bags down and doesn't let you take one. You sit there for a moment.

The car bumps along the road as you're taken farther and farther away from the city and closer and closer to his home. The one you'd never seen but know you could have. The one that is his now that his adoptive father has died.

You think back to why he asked you to do this, and why you said yes. It slips your mind for a second, but then you remember - he said that his father had left you some things, and specified that you come get them. You found it a little odd, but you offered to help him clean up.

The house is large and very, very empty. It feels that way, at least. You see the boxes lining the walls, piled up to the ceiling. You turn to him.

_Are you moving_? you ask, confused. You came to help him clear out what was unnecessary, to move it somewhere else, perhaps. Not to help _him _move. Your eyebrows draw down and together.

_No_, he responds. You don't understand. He walks into another room, and you follow. You see what a mess it is, and you could scold him for it, but you don't. You understand.

There's some uncertainty, some confusion about how to go about this. You end up not doing anything until after lunch. Then the boxes get torn apart, one by one.

He was a pack rat, his adoptive father. You wonder if he ever threw anything away. You find an envelope, postmarked forty-five years ago. No, you decide. He didn't.

Digging through the boxes becomes monotonous quickly. That day lapses into the next, and the next. Your back hurts from leaning over, and he tells you to take a break. You might have argued otherwise, but you're tired. You haven't been sleeping well. So you go sit on the couch and put your feet up. You watch him. You know he feels your eyes on his back, but he doesn't show it. You wish he would react. He doesn't. You could make him react. You don't.

You sleep better than night, though you're not sure why. The next morning, you come across the box of things his adoptive father wanted you to have. It's full of pictures and things from your childhood that somehow moved with him instead of staying with you. You sit on the floor and start pulling them out.

A picture of you; you must have been seven or eight. You have flowers tucked into your hair. You put it aside as you look to the next one. You laugh and he looks over at you. It's a picture of him; he has the same flowers in his hair, and a sour look on his face. He sees what you're looking through and goes back to what he's doing.

You should call him over, but you don't think to do it. You're too wrapped up in what you're doing. You pull out things, little pieces of memories that you had tucked away in your mind. You laugh or say something in response to each new thing. It's fun, in a way. Soon your fingers brush the bottom, but there's one last thing.

You pick up an envelope. You study it and run your fingertips over it. You've touched it before, you've seen it before, you've held it before, but you can't quite remember why. It's been opened, so you flip it over and easily pull the letter out. It's worn around the edges and the two creases are so deep the paper looks about ready to break into three even pieces.

It's your letter. The one you sent but never got a response to. You never expected to see it there, much less in this shape. Instead of asking about it, you read it again. Then you carefully fold it up and put it back in the envelope. You set it on the floor beside you, and start putting things back into the box. It doesn't go back in.

You could go now. You have what you need. You pick up the box and take it up to the room you're staying in, go back downstairs, and continue what you're doing. You won't leave yet. You keep looking at the letter, enough that he notices. He sees what you've been staring at, and you're surprised at his expression. He seems almost angry.

_Where did you find that?_ he asks, standing up and walking over. You snatch up the letter, though it's meant to be his.

_It was in the box_, you say, holding it to your chest as you stand. His frown deepens, but he doesn't move to take the letter back. _Why does it look like this?_ The wear on in from being read so many times; it doesn't make sense. He expects this question, apparently, because he doesn't respond at all. You can tell when he's just being silent and when he doesn't know what to say. In this case, it's definitely the former. You sigh and hold it out to him. _Here_, you say, _have it back_.

_I don't want it back_, he responds. He turns around suddenly and leaves you there, confused. You take the letter to your room then, because you know you won't get any answers about it now, no matter how much you bother him about it. You dig through the box and pull out the two pictures you pulled out first. You lay them on the bedside table and look at them for a while.

The next morning feels different. You slept well, but you're tense. He seems tense, too. You ask him if he's okay, and he snaps at you. You frown at him, but he just walks away. At lunch, you spill something on yourself, and you have to go change.

You stare out the window at the landscape as you strip off your clothes, standing half-naked with the door wide open. At home, it's what you do. You don't realize you did it because it's become such a habit. You start looking for something to put on. You don't hear him walk up the stairs. He comes into the room without saying anything or making any noise to get your attention.

Turning toward him, you don't cover up when you see him standing there. He stops. You don't move. An eon passes between you. You imagine all sorts of outcomes as you hold your breath, most of them initiated by you, but you wait. He turns and leaves, but you saw the expression on his face.

You shower that night and don't get dressed again afterward. You put on a bathrobe and walk back downstairs, where he is. He's on the couch, reading an old book of his father's. You sit next to him. You put your feet up. The bottom of the robe slowly slips off your legs until they are almost entirely uncovered.

He sees this. The book closes with a snap. You can't tell what he's about to do, so you take his left hand - free, as he's still holding the book in his right - and place it on the inside of your thigh. You jump and gasp and make a little noise. He's cold.

You hold it there despite that, count to three, and let go of his wrist. You think he might snatch it away, but he doesn't. He keeps his hand there until it becomes as warm as your flesh. You're both looking at it, waiting to see if it'll do anything. You look over at him and he looks over at you.

When he kisses you, it doesn't feel right. The setting feels all wrong. It feels almost too late. You pull away. He takes his hand back, and you cover your legs. You wonder if you should leave. You don't, and neither does he.

You doze off on the couch together, and in the morning, he's gone. Not just from your side, from the house entirely. You have no idea where he could be. You end up in his room, and look at the calendar. You're surprised to find that you're leaving today.

You notice a box in the corner. Curiosity gets the better of you. There must be some reason why he stashed it away, but it's probably so you won't see it. You look anyway.

It's filled with letters. His father really did keep everything. They range from when he must have been a teen to a few weeks before he died. The later ones are to him. You're surprised to see your name in one of them. You read it, and put all of them back. You don't want to see if the rest are like that, because one is enough.

The train leaves at sundown, and it's noon. You stare out the window. There's nothing else to do. Somehow, all of the boxes have been taken care of. All of the things that he packed up to take to a new place now that he had retired. The heart attack caught them all by surprise. Genetic, he told you, but it was still a shock. He was so young.

The house had been willed to him and he took it because he'd just lost his apartment. At least, you gathered that much from the things he said here and there - he never mentioned it specifically. You never said that you've been on the verge of that more times than you can count with the apartment your husband had bought shortly after you were married.

He had no life insurance, your husband. He felt immortal and thought he was. You never thought anything could happen either. Of course you never expected for him to get hit by a car on your birthday.

You've begun to worry that you're forgetting the sparkle in his green eyes and the bright red of his hair. As time goes by, they seem to become dimmer in your mind.

Your husband was so different from him. Perhaps that difference was what drew you to him. But comparing them would be like the idiom - apples and oranges.

The day he died - the back door slams shut, and you start. You've been sitting in your room, staring out the window, thinking for so long that it's mid-afternoon already. He comes upstairs, hesitates, and knocks. You can't figure out why, but it disappoints you.

_Come in_, you say, rearranging yourself in a more comfortable position and running your fingers through your hair. He steps in and pauses.

_Are you ready to go?_ he asks without pretense. You sigh a little, then nod. You wonder if, at any point before you came here, you thought that things could pick up where they left off. You know you did, but some things can't be fixed. Still, as you gather things up, you pull out the latter and lay it on the bed. You slide the pictures into your bag, planning to do something else with them.

He rides with you down to the station, but doesn't plan to join you on the way back. He has to take care of other things.

You look at him and he looks at you, and you're sixteen and eighteen again. You wait for him to ask you to stay, but he doesn't. You would have accepted, but he doesn't. You could have said something, but you don't. You forget what you were going to do.

You say goodbye, kiss his cheek, and walk away. You turn around once to look at him, and raise your hand to wave. He tilts his head up, then down, the nod you're so used to.

He's still standing on the platform as the train pulls away, and you're struck but how similar this situation is to the one ten years ago. You almost laugh, but you only settle back into your seat for a long ride. After some time, you nearly start and begin rummaging in your bag. The flower pictures are still there. You meant to give him one of them, even if he tried to refuse.

You tuck them back into the pocket and look out the scenery. You recall the letters, old and new, the expressions on his face, the cold press of his hand on your thigh, and doze off in the midst of your thoughts.

The moon rises over an open field and floods the darkened compartment with light. You wake up when it falls on you. You blink a few times, face away, and go back to sleep. The light looks cold, but you feel warm.

* * *

Notes: I know I said I wasn't going to write anything new; I really thought I wasn't. But I started working on something in the second person for something else, detailing a personal experience. It was getting to be too emotionally taxing and I needed respite. And I had a snow day, so I even though I should be have been working on other stuff, I didn't. The "adoptive father" is supposed to be Tiedoll, but a little older than he is in the manga. Lavi was her hubby because I felt like it, idk. I could have written a more optimistic ending (not that this one is pessimistic, but you know), but I decided not to. I also didn't have a specific time period in mind when I wrote this. Just...a while back. I couldn't think of a title, so yay for more untitled. I'm worried about OOC, but eh. Second person is an odd medium. I left some points vague on purpose because I thought it would be better than being too explicit.


	22. the inbetween

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Warnings: complete disregard to grammar for the sake of style (run-on sentences, tense switching, overuse of em dashes and parentheses), aaaaaaaaaangst, somehow it feels like it's sort of sappy, **spoilers for the most recent chapters (up to 202 at least)**.

* * *

_the in-between_

It was like a dream (she wished it were a dream because if she was asleep then she could wake up). Then it would all go away and maybe she would find that —

When she had been fighting, there was some consolation, though the hope inside of her shrank as time went on (she would never let it disappear) — she felt a good feeling trying to bloom, a stabilizing feeling she couldn't name, thinking she could go back to the Order after all of this and see —

She could go to her brother, talk to him, do anything, but he's so busy and preoccupied lately that he hasn't been doing his usual routine when she brings him coffee (he doesn't even try to go through the motions, and while she never condoned or encouraged the behavior, she misses its familiarity). He thanks her as always, looking up so she knows he's acknowledging her, goes back to what he's doing, brow furrowed and coffee next to him. She should be happy that he's doing his job, but somehow —

There was no moon that night. Not a cloud in the sky with no moon to shine its cold light on her as she stared out the window. Not her room. It felt too foreign, too open, too empty. She remembered a time when she thought monsters lurked in the shadows of the ceilings and she ran away (runrunrun) and then she found —

She's in his room. She's been there many times before because they wanted to see each other, still couldn't find five minutes during the day to talk (everything is moving so fast). Nighttime is the only time they had together —

She's not selfish (she thinks as she gets into his bed again but it's not the same not the same), she doesn't try to assume anything about what's happened because that would be too difficult and she has trouble thinking about it already —

She can't seem to warm up now, even with his blankets there (he never had many, he could have asked for more, never did, so they kept each other warm) ever since she came back to the cold place where she could see her breath and she asked Marie if —

_(Allen in shackles Lavi nowhere to be found Kanda — dead.)_

She falls asleep somehow and rouses the next morning, finding herself in an empty room but that's the way it usually was (he'd always be gone before she'd wake up). She dresses and goes to the cafeteria trying not to hope too hard that it was just a horrible, horrible dream she finally woke up from —

And still she can't stop the disappointment, the sadness, the loss that she feels when she realized no, it's not all a dream. Reality is cruel and unforgiving, lurking behind her while she tries to stand up straight, tries to square her shoulders, tries to lift her head up high —

Try. Tried so many times.

She remembers, that morning (she can't quite pinpoint when because it feels like she's lost track of time), a few words he said once, about how he called her a strong woman. He was never snide nor snappy with her (they both knew she'd hit him with her clipboard or respond in turn), though compliments were few and far between —

She knew how he felt, knows how he felt (she wishes she could say she knows how he _feels_, but she can't use those sorts of words anymore) without him having to say anything —

And life goes on like nothing happened, but it should stop (if only for five minutes so she can take a breath). She's still so cold yet layering on clothes wouldn't help (it's not that kind of cold feeling now) so she wears only a sleeveless top —

Reever offered her food when she didn't eat anything during the big lunch Jeryy made. He told her that she needed her strength back. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to fight. And weren't there so many enemies to fight?

Strength. Strong woman. She accepted what he gave her, holding it in her hands and not taking a bite. She listened to them talk, looking over one man's shoulder after a while. She imagined the three of them there without intending to; they were making a scene, as usual. She could have smiled at the memory (or was it something she made up, based off a memory? She wasn't certain at this point); she continued to frown instead. Nevertheless.

She started to eat, because, in this reality, it was all she could do.

* * *

Notes: of course, when I want to write, I can't, but now that I have so much to catch up on, this comes out. And omg, the grammar of it all! I wanted it to be sort of jumbled and then get structured near the end. Don't know if that worked, but eh. Also don't know about the ending, but I didn't want it to go on for much longer because it could have dragged a little. Anyway, wasn't going to post until 3/11 (i.e., the one-year anniversary of _memento vivere_), but I've been having trouble concentrating on anything. Ah well. I'll leave it at that.


	23. 23

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Note: 6 is meant to be AU. The rest...aren't. Oh, and 1 is adult-ish, though not explicit. Also, long winding sentences in some cases, which seems to have become part of my style now?

* * *

_1. Secret Encounter_

His eyes must have gotten used to the darkness faster than hers, because his fingers didn't fumble with the buttons to her uniform like hers did. They had a limited amount of time, and each second that passed was another wasted. The impatient noise she made spurred him on, but she grabbed his coat to jerk him closer.

"I missed you," she murmured as he lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She said it almost complacently, though when he muttered something in response, she smiled before gasping.

_2. Along the Moonlit Bay_

No one would tell them why, but they could only move at night. They had only the moon's light to guide them, hands thrown out in front of them to detect anything in their path. It hadn't stopped a few branches from whipping at her face, but they persevered. Their breath steamed in the air, a great puff of it billowing in front of her as she sighed.

When the moon went behind a cloud and her hand struck a tree in front of her, she cried out. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and he was there beside her. Expecting something akin to scolding - though he never would; she was the one who did that - she uncovered her mouth to respond. When he asked, under his breath, so softly she could barely hear, if she was all right, she found no sharp words for him.

_Fine_, she told him, equally as quiet and warmer than the air around them.

_3. Hidden from the World_

The meditation room was not out of the way, nor was it reserved for anyone specific. Even so, few entered it now; save, of course, the two children. She'd often follow him in there and he'd allow it, fixing her posture and correcting whatever other mistakes she might have been committing in her copying of his meditation.

Tiedoll poked his head in once, but stopped himself before he spoke. The boy and girl had fallen asleep, leaned against each other. Before he could properly take in the picture, the boy woke up slightly.

The glare Tiedoll received told him he shouldn't let anything about this slip, but the General smiled and backed out, sliding the door shut. The boy might have gotten up, but he would have disturbed the girl, and, at that moment, she reached out in her sleep and snagged his shirt in her fingers.

He stayed.

_4. Addicted To Your Touch_

No one could see when she'd grab his hand under the table, or when she'd trace her fingers along his arm. If they did, they probably wouldn't understand why he did not jerk away like they would expect. She knew why but would never say.

With a smile, she pinched him; the corners of her mouth turned up higher as he jumped, surprised by her actions.

_5. Don't Be Afraid_

Gasping for breath, she hid. She hid because she didn't know what else to do. She was so young but not naïve; not after what had happened over the past year. But even that hadn't prepared her for this.

"What are you doing?" he snapped, jumping beside her. She shivered and clutched at herself, trying in vain to stop the quaking. He exhaled heavily, more forceful than a sigh, and grabbed her arm. It almost slipped from his wet grip, and when he squeezed she whimpered. He seemed to want to say something but couldn't find the words.

She gazed up at him and didn't need to hear it. Nodding, she pried his fingers from her arm, putting on a brave face. He didn't believe it but said nothing, and she went forward, because she had to fight back.

_6. The Space Between Us_

The train would leave soon. They stood on the platform, the proper distance away from each other. His trip extended far ahead of them; farther than they could imagine.

"Goodbye," she said, her face serene despite the situation. He wondered what she would do; she must be planning something. The train rolled in, and she held her skirts down. He nodded to her farewell then, planning to turn and leave, to be gone for months, if not years. "Wait – "

He turned around, finding her right beside him. Her arms went around his shoulders, and she kissed him like they would in the privacy of his room – like they weren't supposed to. People gasped, scandalized.

She waved at him from the platform as the train pulled away, ignoring the glares of the older women and incredulous looks from others. He wondered if she'd suffer any social consequences for her actions, but she could take care of herself. He should not worry. He settled back into his seat, not thinking about it.

The final embrace was hard to forget.

_7. Rough Hands_

She bandaged his hands again that day, scolding him all the while.

"You have to be more careful," she said, winding the gauze around his palm. "You healed from yesterday but you shouldn't do this every day." He glanced away, appearing annoyed.

When she flipped his hand over to press a kiss to his palm, his attention returned to her. He raised an eyebrow, mouth set in a straight line. She motioned for him to give her his other hand, which he did.

She continued to bandage his hands, but before she could press a kiss to his other palm, she felt his fingers curling around the back of her neck. He drew her in, and she squeezed his hand instead as their lips met.

_8. Farewell_

"Kanda!" Lenalee called, chasing after him. Her clipboard in hand, she almost smacked him with it for leaving without saying goodbye to her. When he turned, she was surprised to see how tired he looked. The clipboard shook in her hands, but she kept it there. "Goodbye," she offered after a deep breath, a smile following it.

He acknowledged it with a nod, turning away. She wondered if he'd be okay, but dismissed it. Of course he would; Kanda always came back fine – for the most part. So Lenalee walked away, holding the clipboard behind her back. She wondered when he would return idly, and did not notice him turning one last time to glance back at her before leaving.

* * *

More notes: lol I don't even know. Some of this is just. It's been a rough few weeks and I wanted to write. I decided this turned out okay so I thought I'd put it up. Since, you know, I haven't updated in a while. These are taken from some writing community on Livejournal (which I just take prompts from and never join haha. Leeeeeech). Oh, I also graduated so no more school in the fall yay. I've been spending most of my free time downtown, protestin' and watching the peoples' rights slowly being taken away. You know, the usual. Anyway, hopefully this didn't suck too much?


	24. upon a red balloon

Standard disclaimers apply here.

* * *

_upon a red balloon_

She woke up with her cheek plastered to the floor. The marble felt cool against her skin. One arm curled underneath her side, the hand of the other flat on the floor. She sat up, touching her forehead; a dull ache descended there, threatening to become overwhelming. She stretched the folded arm out in front of her. Red marks on it startled her.

"_Le-na-lee_." The voice echoed through the halls. She looked around wildly, loose hair flying and making herself dizzy. She stopped, shutting her eyes and trying to quell the nausea that boiled up inside of her. Open again.

Eight paths. She gazed up: a dome. Light filtered through the rounded windows, little green panels dotting the ceiling. A painting graced the middle of it, too far away for her to make out. Then, there was a little red dot.

She squinted. Was that…a heart up there? She could not tell. Standing, she brushed off her long, white dress and stared up. No. A balloon. What was it doing up there?

It wiggled – did it? No, she was sure of it. It did move.

_"The hea-art_." It haunted her, that echo. She spun, trying to find its source. Nothing – wait.

A flash in the West hall – behind wall between it and the – South West – disappeared until it showed up in the – South. It moved too fast. Gathering up her skirts, she ran toward the South East, snagging a coattail.

_Riiiiiiip_. Her grip would not loosen, and a piece of fabric came away in her hand.

"Wait!" she yelled, stumbling. She lost her balance, landing on her elbows. _Ow_. Her head throbbed. She looked, checking for damage. There was none.

She no longer held the piece of coat, but a note. _Go to it_, it ordered her. _You will understand_.

"Understand? What will I understand?" she muttered. She stood, finding a stain on her dress. She brushed at it, scrubbed at it, but it stayed.

In doing this, she did not realize the note been engulfed in flames. Embers of it remained on the floor as it burned itself, disappearing without a trace.

* * *

The staircase up to the first floor was wide. Her skirts dragged against the steps before she picked them up. At the top, she turned left and right – which way could she go? This was East, wasn't it?

"Madam, what are you doing here?" Lenalee jumped, cried out; she spun to find a man leaning against the rail between staircases. The swirled marble rose and dipped in an outward curve, five small columns underneath it. He smiled at her; it was an untrustworthy smile.

"Where did you come from?" she asked, approaching him. Suspicion dominated her features; if he discerned this, it did not bother him. He leered, and she dropped her skirts, covering her legs.

"I've always been here," he informed her, catching her hand and kissing it. He bowed his head a bit, barely breaking eye contact. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember?" she repeated. Her confusion made him drop her hand. A top hat appeared on his head, and he tipped it.

"I must be going." He hopped over the railing without pause.

"Wha-wait!" She leaned over it to see if he was all right. The man stood there, beginning to hum as he walked away. She raced down the stairs, tripping over her skirt and tumbling over the rest. She held her head in her arms, whimpering in pain.

Laughter filled the halls. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to stay where she was forever. She didn't have to do anything, did she? But something compelled her to move; to go on.

"_West_," it told her, "_go West_."

Lenalee tried to find the voice, but she was alone. The man whom she spoke with disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

How anyone was supposed to navigate these halls, she did not know. They were identical. She took a sharp corner; there it was: she could see the area she woke up in, now one floor above it.

"If you keep wandering around you won't get anything done." A child's voice came from behind her. She turned to find a girl licking a lollipop.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, though she took a step back. A sense of dread filled her; maybe she could jump down like that man had. He had made it just fine, who was to say she wouldn't?

"I'm always here," the girl responded, skipping toward her. Lenalee backed up, but stopped. It was just a little girl, right? "Like you have been – repeating this endless cycle because you still haven't been able to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" The girl held out her hand, an umbrella floating over into it. She opened it, flying up into the air. She laughed, the sound enough to send a shiver down Lenalee's spine.

"Maybe you'll get it one day," she mocked, disappearing over the edge of one of the higher floors.

"One day?" She had only been wandering for an hour, if that! What did she mean?

* * *

"_Hea-art, the heart. Get to it!_" The voice snapped at her. Its impatience reverberated through the open area.

"Where?" she cried. "Where is it?" She had been wandering for hours. She poked her head into rooms with unfamiliar names, finding them empty.

"You're thinking too low." She turned to find another man behind her; she no longer felt surprised. She felt used to having people sneak up on her, even though this was the third time.

"Where am I supposed to go?" The eye patch might have put her off otherwise, but she found she didn't care about it now. He laughed a bit and pushed some red hair back, blinking at her – or did he wink? Perhaps he had.

"If I told you that it would take all of the fun away," he told her, eye sparkling and prepared to tease. She stiffened, but then saw a flash in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to the side to see it; too late. It was gone.

"Did you see that?" she cried, frustrated. The dome filled with bright light as the sun came out from behind a cloud. It reflected off the gold-covered ceilings, calling to her.

"Look up," the man whispered, close to her ear. She backed away; he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

She did as he said, and then back down, finding him gone like the rest. The red balloon taunted her when she gazed up once more.

* * *

Up higher still, she plopped down in front of a large room. The word above it was unreadable. Fatigue threatened to take her. She studied the large diamonds and triangles that fit together to form the floor.

A finger touched her cheek. She started and looked around, lurching to her right. She ran into a pair of legs.

Lenalee glanced up, finding a man with dark hair above her. She grabbed on to his pant leg, pressing her face into the fabric. She inhaled, exhaled, and sighed after. She could not explain the need to do it; she just knew she had to.

"Are you going to disappear like the rest?" she asked, pulling back. She didn't know why she wanted him not to, but the feeling was there, dancing in her chest. His brow furrowed, the corners of his lips turning down.

"If you want," he said, voice even and expression smoothing. He started to move.

"No! N-no, I don't want to be alone," she pleaded, clinging to him. She felt pathetic. He regarded her for a long moment.

"You aren't," he informed her, reaching down to her. She shook her head, ignoring it and letting go of him.

"You don't understand," she cried, frustrated. "Everyone – they're not –"

But he turned and started to leave. Irritated, she got up and ran after him, tripping once more and surely knocking into him. Somehow, she didn't. He faced her before she could crash, grabbing her arms and holding her up.

_"Sa-afe. Sa-afe_." The voice now mocked them, and his lips set in a hard line.

"I must go." He righted her, let go, and walked away like they all had.

"No – I – you – ugh!" The crack of her heel against the floor sounded so loud to her ears she was sure it would echo.

Instead, silence filled the halls.

* * *

**Only authorized personnel are allowed on the viewing deck**.

"Authorized personnel?" she repeated after reading it. She cocked her head to the side. It didn't help her discern the meaning.

A quick look around told her she was alone. No one could stop her or tell her what to do. She ran up the stairs, nonetheless, skirts hiked up to her knees. Someone could come after her, and she needed to move her legs freely. Besides...

She felt close to something.

The deck itself was small, the railing old and not sturdy. She watched her step instead of looking around.

"_Here, here_," the voice sang out. It sounded gleeful, but had an edge she could not figure out.

Glancing up, there it was: the heart balloon. It didn't move under her gaze, but when she ran around the deck to it, it shuddered. She assumed it was from her dashing, reaching for it without a second thought.

The railing creaked and moved with her, but she leaned farther and farther anyway. Just a little bit...more –

It gave way under her as the balloon jumped away from her hand. Her throat closed as she plummeted down, unable to scream.

She lost consciousness on the floor, arm curled underneath her side.

* * *

Her head hurt terribly but she didn't know why. She was on the floor of a magnificent building that she didn't recognize. She sat up as light burst through the windows. Above her, the gold ceiling sparkled.

A dot of red caught her attention.

"_The hea-art_," a voice rolled through the halls, haunting them. A ghost? Lenalee shivered.

A gloved hand appeared in front of her face. She recoiled, surprised, but realized the hand belonged to a rather benevolent looking young man.

"Do you need help?" he asked, taking her hand and pulling her up off the floor. She gazed down, seeing two stains on her dress. How did those get there?

"I – don't know," she admitted, her head throbbing.

"_Le-na-lee_." She jerked, eyes flitting here and there as she tried to locate the source of the noise.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, almost whispering and not certain why. He neither nodded nor shook his head.

"Where are you going?" He squeezed her hand, and she stared at him.

"Where am I supposed to go?" she blurted out. Why had she said that? It made no sense; she didn't even know why she was there to begin with!

The young man leaned closer, his brown hair tickling her face as he whispered into her ear. "To the heart."

She blinked, looking up and regretting it after the pain in her head. After shutting her eyes to make the throbbing dull, she opened them to find him gone.

Lenalee turned, and saw a flash – West. She ran toward it, hoping it might lead to something and not certain it would.

* * *

Her shoes sounded so loud in the empty halls. The clattering began to get on her nerves – as much as the stains in her dress.

She took them off, holding onto the shoes in case she needed to put them back on for some reason. They seemed unnecessary – as she stepped on the cool marble floor with its squares and ovals, diamonds and triangles, she couldn't see any reason why she should have something on her feet.

She padded along, the slight swish of her skirts the only noise that could be heard. After some time, she found herself at the bottom of a staircase to the second floor – having already ascended the stairs to the first after the flash.

The moment she looked up, a figure appeared. He regarded her and left after that one look. Feeling a pull, she threw her shoes away and dashed up the stairs, skirt in hands.

The hall was empty when she arrived on the floor. "Now where did he go?" she muttered to herself, tiptoeing though she didn't need to.

As she turned the corner, a loud _crack_ echoed in the building. Lenalee ducked, covering her ears. Mocking laughter filled her ears as she lifted her head to gaze around.

"She still hasn't figured it out."

"Nope, hee!" She bristled at the accusations, standing up straight and finding two men standing there. The guns they held made her step back.

"Figured what out?" she asked anyway, prepared to duck or run; whichever worked best.

This made the two laugh more. They turned and ran, still giggling. She tried to follow them, going against her instincts, but when she found herself out in the open of the dome again, they were gone.

Above her, the red balloon shivered.

* * *

She was ready to cry out in annoyance, to say she gave up. She had no clues as she wandered the third floor.

Humming caught her attention, and she followed it almost blindly. Bursting into the room without knocking, she found herself almost face to face with a woman. A veil covered her eyes.

"Do you hurt?" she asked, forgoing introductions and pleasantries. Lenalee nodded and winced. "Come here, child."

She approached the woman – taking only a few steps – and stopped in front of her. A kiss in the middle of her forehead shouldn't have done anything, but the pain disappeared.

"Wha-"

"You can move on now," the woman told her, dismissing her though her voice retained its kind tone.

"Where?" Lenalee asked, impatient and tired. The light waned and it didn't appear that any candles would be lit.

"You'll know when you get there." The woman walked away, going over to a desk and picking something up. The lost girl knew she should not stay, so she left.

The woman hummed as she had been before, the door moving slowly to close by itself.

* * *

Brilliant artificial light spilled down to the floor, the fixtures humming as they chased the darkness away. Lenalee yawned, covering her mouth with her left hand but not stifling it. She swayed, running in to a wall.

Warm, strong hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back.

"_Sleep_," called the voice, sounding tired itself. She tried to see who was guiding her, but her vision became blurry and she could not make out his features.

"Where are we going?" she demanded, her words dulled by fatigue. She received no response; whoever it was, he led her to a grand door. He threw it open; she stumbled into it when she moved forward.

Her vision cleared, and she took in her surroundings: a large room with red, lush-looking carpets. Two half circles of desks took up the room, but she saw it: a blanket and pillow, red as the floor it rested on.

She did not remember going over to it and falling asleep. She did not dream.

* * *

The light on the floor seemed to move when she awoke; when she looked up she found herself under a large, round stained glass window. Her neck hurt again. The pillow disappeared.

Huffing as she reentered the halls, she rubbed at her shoulder, hand moving higher. In the corner of her eye, there was a flash – someone moving.

Lenalee chased after them this time, and nearly caught him. She could not figure out why the black hair sparked a feeling of familiarity in her. She had to stop; her breath was all but gone.

An acrid smell reached her nose before she caught it; she coughed and stood up. Leaning against the rail was yet another man, idly smoking. He watched her, flicking away the cigarette and exhaling once more.

"What?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?" She ran up to him and grabbed his coat. She could have shaken him, but she didn't.

He removed her hands from his coat, regarding her with one eye. A mask covered half of his face. "Think," he told her, walking away.

"_Think_," taunted the voice. Then its laughter danced in and out of the arches, down over the rails. She covered her ears and shut her eyes, wishing she were somewhere else.

Anywhere.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Lenalee found herself on the ground floor again. _Why_? She thought wildly. She dashed toward the North stairs.

They all kept telling her to find _it_, go to the heart. As she held her head and shut everything out, it came to her. It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.

She knew now. She should have known all along.

* * *

The heart balloon brushed against the ceiling, appearing to move. Lenalee shook her head. She happened to glance down and regretted it. Fear gripped her and her stomach tightened; the sheer height of it disturbed her so. But she had to keep going.

Taking careful steps, she walked around the deck to it. It wiggled – it must have! It couldn't have been an illusion! There - again! It had to have been her movement - she could think of no other explanation.

Pulling in a deep breath, she reached. She reached for the heart that everyone – everything – kept telling her to find. So close, so close.

She snatched at air, curling her fingers like claws. She almost lost her balance, but managed to catch herself. Another calming breath, another try.

The same outcome: nothing.

She steeled herself; she'd have to do it. Taking a step back, she launched herself into the air; the railing she managed to step on and used for leverage.

She flew.

* * *

It was a stupid move; it was a dangerous move. It was the right one. She could not grab the balloon, but swiping at it caused it to pop – burst. A brilliant light filled the dome, and confetti fell like snow.

The sound reverberated through the building like a shot, echoing back to her.

She plummeted. She remembered.

Multiple tries – four, no five, no six – no, more. She did not know how many times she tried and failed. She'd always fall, land on the ground, and forget. Start over from stage one. But this had to be it. She did it. This was the end!

What would she do?

As she prepared to hit the floor hard, she braced herself and shut her eyes.

_Three, two, one..._

And instead of cold marble again, she felt warmth: two arms supporting her as she blacked out.

* * *

"What are we going to do? She's been unconscious since you brought her out of the building."

"She'll wake up." The voices set off an alarm in her head; she knew them. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Lenalee? Hey, she's awake!" She winced as Allen called to the others.

"What happened?" A cool compress found its way to her hot forehead.

"You were pulled into that building – the one the people said was haunted." She opened her eyes a bit, blinking as the light became too much. "We couldn't find you for a while."

Building? That building where they say you get tested...or was it something else?

"How'd I get here?" Lenalee noticed the other presence in the room. Kanda stood in the corner, arms crossed but listening.

"You...jumped over the rail on that deck," Allen said slowly. "Kanda managed to catch you, but you wouldn't wake up. It's been a day."

She felt feverish as well; what had that done to her? "Did you...?"

"Of course," Kanda responded. The shadows covered half his face.

"Are you hungry? I can get you something –" Allen started toward the door before she could say anything.

"No, no, I'm not hungry," she protested, but he was gone. She had the suspicion that he just wanted to eat, and her mouth curved into a smile. "Kanda," she called weakly, "come here." She beckoned to him as well.

He did as she asked, kneeling down next to her. She groped for his hand and found it without too much trouble – she suspected he moved it so she could grab it.

"Thank you," she said, "for catching me." She laced their fingers together, thinking of what happened in that building – in that fantasy she had been given – and wanted to ask him to stay. Somehow her voice left her before she could.

It didn't matter; he understood and didn't respond to her thanks. She wondered if he had a similar experience – if they overlapped because she saw him, but dismissed the thought.

When she started to doze not long after, she felt him remove his hand from hers. She might have groped for his hand again but didn't feel she could - she was so tired.

The bed dipped as he sat. He wrapped his fingers the hand he had held before, and she fell asleep with it surrounding hers.

* * *

Notes: Haha yeah. I got the idea while watching the newer version of _Alice in Wonderland_ a second time (with someone who hadn't seen it). The building I tried to describe is the Capitol here. I'm sure I didn't do it justice. The red balloon also exists, though its purpose and symbolism now is harder to explain (succinctly, at least).

Anyway, some parts don't make sense but they're not supposed to. :D It's meant to be a little incoherent and choppy. I didn't want it to be a "oh it's all a dream" thing because that has little payoff. An akuma-induced fantasy might not have been any better, but you know. Oh, and she didn't jump multiple times like she pictured in her head; it was just that once. The rushing around was real, but without the...splat.

Thanks for the lovely reviews~. I'm so bad at responding now. I'll get on that this time...hopefully.


	25. murkiness

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Notes: Yeah, I said fanfiction and I are done, basically, but things keep happening. Like this recent chapter, for example. I'm not going to attempt to write anything big or long since that never gets me anywhere, but here's this, anyway.

WARNINGS: Spoilers. Sort of.

* * *

_murkiness_

She stares at her left hand, curling and uncurling her fingers; the hand from which he drank like a cup. Ah, what a strange turn of events this past day has been.

"Lenaleeeee." She looks up to find her brother walking up to her, taking as much time as he can. He whines as he speaks. "Reever says you should go look for Kanda." He acts like he doesn't want to; maybe he thinks they should leave the man alone. Maybe he's being lazy. She sighs.

"All right." She turns to go.

"Wait!" She stops. "Aren't you going to spend time with me?" He sniffs rather theatrically; she got back from a mission that afternoon. But she saw him plenty of times before that. She can't say the same for Kanda.

"I will later," she promises, twisting to smile at him before jogging off, her heels loud against the floor.

She finds him in a darkened room, leaning over a table, hands braced against the side. She worries that he might be ill; upon studying him, she decides he must be thinking. She takes a step in, pauses, and remembers his earlier comment. _Ugly_. She bristles and strides in farther.

Stopping near him, she sets her hands on her hips, giving him a once-over. "Your clothes are filthy," she says. "They need to be washed." _Before you go_ gets stuck on her tongue. Why does she think he's going to leave again? The thought pains her.

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, like he did when he held her hand earlier. She waits. He straightens up and pulls off his vest. She can't figure out what to say or do.

"Wait, that's not what I meant!" she tries. The piece of clothing lands on her head. "Kanda!" She yanks it off her face, his familiar scent mingling with something stale.

"What?" His button-down shirt remains untouched. She wonders why he did that. Maybe to show it's not as dirty as she claimed, but it doesn't matter. He stares like he expects her to say more, to tell him why she's here.

"My brother was looking for you and couldn't find you," she explains, folding the vest over her arm. She realizes what she said: _couldn't find you_. The reality of it hits her again. Her heart beats faster and she looks up at him. She wonders if he will go, and his expression doesn't tell her one way or another.

She drops the vest as she takes the few steps up to him, hugging him tightly. She had them and lost them all. She has him now but the situation could turn out the same once more. His hand comes to rest on her lower back, fingers spread out.

"I'll bring you some pajamas," she says firmly as she moves back, smiling and wiping away a stray tear. He won't leave tonight. He can't yet. He nods.

"Fine," he says when she waits for a response. As she leaves she turns back one last time, giving him a long look to try to commit him to memory, just as he is.

"Kanda," she whispers; he hears and looks at her, "Are you sure?"

Without hesitating, he responds, "I'm sure."


	26. good memories are forever

Standard disclaimers apply here. (Set around 208. Title taken from _Union Town _by Tom Morello.)

* * *

_good memories are forever_

By the sustained flush on her face, he could see that she was embarrassed. Annoyed, at least. Or maybe angry? It was hard to tell from the glance he spared in her direction, blood dripping from his arms.

This - this single look - proved to be quite the catalyst (though without it, the now quickly devolving situation would have been set in motion by something else - not that they were seeking out another reason).

The perhaps thoughtless glance preceded a yell – two men crying out his name in indignation at once. "_Kanda_!" He might have given it the slightest inkling of concern if he felt threatened by the men whose faces were certainly red with anger. The situation now did not worry him. He carelessly wiped his arms on the sheets, wrapping Mugen up with cloth he had brought in with him amidst the growing tension in the room.

When he walked by Lenalee, standing there with her mouth parted, he stopped. Not because he intended to, but because he was forced to. The fingers on his wrist gripped it too tightly, and he could not move.

This made things worse.

"You – I – _we _should go," she said, voice low and tinged with emotion. She let go of his wrist and started walking toward the door. He followed because he was on his way out anyway – and also because she told him to. This proved to be the best thing to do, because the two overprotective and furious men plotted in loud voices their revenge behind him.

"How _dare_ he touch _my_ Lenalee!" The voices sounded together again. Komui momentarily switched his anger to Bak, and, for a moment, the topic wasn't on Kanda as they exited the room.

They happened to run into Marie, who had been standing outside throughout the whole situation. Of course, he didn't know what was going on because he couldn't see it.

"_Why_ did you do that, Kanda?" she asked in a low voice as they rushed down the hall.

"You put your hands around it," he replied coolly.

"That's not why I..." She trailed off, not finishing the thought. "No, it _is_." Marie, following closely, knit his brow.

"What are you talking about?" They rounded a corner and stopped for the time being. "What exactly did you do to Lenalee, Kanda?"

He saw it coming and didn't stop it. Her fist connected with his face; he supposed it was better than a kick from her. Not that he _deserved_ it or anything.

"_Nothing_," they said in unison, her face red again.

Komui sneaked around near them as they talked – though that wasn't exactly right. He tiptoed, as far as Kanda could tell, but the man called out his name at the same time. "Kanda~! Come out already! I promise I won't do anything!" The sound of his drill revving contradicted him. "They say they need you back at the Main Branch. We're leaving soon."

Marie, still confused, said, "If nothing happened, why is Komui after you? Why don't you just go out and talk to him?"

"That's not an option," Lenalee said before Kanda could respond. Marie's frown deepened, and Kanda looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She may have been irritated, but she wasn't about to leave, go to her brother, and give away their not-so-hidden hiding spot. He could handle the man, for sure. Better to just let him cool down than face him with or without his sword. Lenalee would be angry at both of them for it, worse if either of them were hurt in the process, and no one wanted to deal with that.

She started walking away when it became clear her brother was moving away as well - but did so on her tiptoes, too. He stared at her back and saw the look she cast over her shoulder at him, beckoning him with a wave of her hand.

Her fingernails dug into his hand when he caught up. "I don't want you to leave." Her words now contradicted those she said earlier, and, seeming to realize that, added, "Yet."

He watched her and didn't shake off her hand. "You're not going to start crying again, are you?"

She smiled. "No. I promise."

"I'm leaving as soon as I can." He watched her digest this, waiting for the tears to come. Marie's soft and heavy footsteps followed them slowly.

"Okay." Her expression did not change. "You shouldn't give up all of your freedom. But I'll see you soon, right?"

* * *

_Notes_: Open ending? Ish? Sure. That's it. I couldn't figure out how to end it so I just deleted all of the stuff I had after this part because it felt unnecessary. Meh. Moving on. Oh wow, have I really not posted since October (well, December, technically, but before that)? Oops. I've been really, really, really busy and emotionally drained and tired and so on. I would say I've been trying to write, but I haven't been, most of the time. I can't stand to take much time away from the battle I and so many people are still fighting right here. Anyway, this was inspired by an omake for volume 23 (where she does punch him and they do say "nothing" together and it also says something similar to "better than a kick"). I don't know what to really say about it. It's a sketch (which is all I ever write anymore). It's fluff. There's not much else to it.


	27. 27

Standard disclaimers apply here.

Warnings: overuse of pronouns (actually quite normal for me), sketchishness again (not sorry), titlelessness (not sorry that that's not a word), first thing written in over a year (so maybe there's some rust or whatever?), post chapter 217 (not really a warning since it's been out since like last November), also I kind of feel like I've gotten away from their characters (so not as IC as I'd hope?), these really aren't warnings anymore (are they?)

* * *

The clock hadn't struck midnight yet, but maybe she hadn't been listening closely enough. That was a silly thought: of course she was listening for it.

He never promised her anything, and she had a not-so-ridiculous notion that she'd never see him again – him or Allen or Lavi. One of the three was better than none, but she wished all of them would return. She found that things didn't work out that way long before this.

Someone had mentioned that he would be back before midnight, but she couldn't be sure it was true at this point. He'd gone to talk to all of the important people that day, and the day before. That they would let him come back here, even for a short amount of time, hinted at something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Surely he'd be carefully watched and now allowed to have a private conversation with her.

She left her room, which was incredibly unwise. They were already watching her every move and not letting her go on missions. Marie was in a similar situation. They'd be in trouble if they admitted it, and they'd be in trouble if someone else discovered they were lying. There was no way they could come close to winning, though the possible punishments might be lesser for one than the other. Loyalty to one's friends had its drawbacks.

She counted her steps as she turned the corner and almost ran into Tiedoll. Her breath caught. "Back already, General Tiedoll?" She smiled at him through the darkness, and she knew he was smiling as well.

"It wasn't hard to find him," Tiedoll responded. "My cute student –"

"Shut up." A voice to her left made her jump. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, so she hadn't seen him. Tiedoll stretched.

"I think I'll get something to eat," he said, starting off before he finished his sentence. He did pause to look back, face lit by the light streaming through the high windows, wearing an expression of concern with a hint of warning. If they left – either of them – it would make everything worse. "Would you like something, Lenalee?" She shook her head, setting her mouth in a line. Tiedoll walked out of sight, moving toward the cafeteria one floor below. There was some sense of trust there. She turned to look at him.

The light from the windows high above them hit him from behind. He looked the same as when she last saw him not too long ago.

"I might still be in a lot of trouble," she told him, breaking the short, not uncomfortable silence. Questions of 'how are you' and 'what happened' didn't seem to fit. She wasn't trying to accuse him of anything, even though it would be his fault. She did all of it willingly, though. She was just trying to fill the silence, even if it was with something that she was sure he already knew.

"You won't," he responded without promise in his voice. Something must have happened in those two day long meetings. Whether she'd still be getting out of it without some punishment...she couldn't tell from his tone.

"Maybe," she countered, looking away toward the windows. "My brother can only do so much now..." He was angry with her already. What would he do if he found out?

"Don't worry so much," he said, and she looked back at him. She frowned. She then saw his face as she readied herself to say that she had every right to be worried. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but she stopped bristling.

She noticed his arm with he rolled up his sleeves out of habit. She could see the scar from the Innocence, just like the ones on her ankles. His didn't look the same. She almost wanted to touch it, to see if it was real, to see if all of this was real, but she stopped herself. Was it really out of habit, she wondered, or did he roll up his sleeves for another reason?

It was a long pause, then, where she searched for something fitting to say – something that wouldn't linger in her mind if they were interrupted. They surely would be.

"I'll be here for another day," he said, answering the question she wanted and didn't want to ask.

"Where are you going?" She took a step toward him.

"I can't say." He shifted so half of his face was illuminated by the moonlight. Knowing what he was doing now could lead to more trouble, she figured.

"Secret general missions?" she asked. He grunted. She laughed despite there being little to laugh about. She opened her mouth but shut it before she could think of something appropriate to say.

Tiedoll appeared behind her suddenly. "I think it's time for you two to go to bed," he told them, sounding quite reasonable. When she turned around to say something to him, she found an expression she did not expect. _If you don't, you'll make things worse for yourself. _He must seen something - someone - during his short trip downstairs._  
_

"All right. Good night, Kanda." She tipped her head to the side with a smile. He nodded. "I'll see you later," she said with conviction. She took two quick steps to reach out and hug him. He allowed it, patting her back once before she pulled away. There was a question on the tip of her tongue that she didn't want to ask, so she didn't.

She turned her back on both of them, just as the clock struck midnight. She counted her steps again, matching her pace with the strikes of the clock.

* * *

Notes: Something new? OK! It's not like I have other things to do right now that maybe deserve my attention more than this! Nope. I haven't had much energy for writing, really. I have time, but not the desire (and I'm also really distracted). This was actually pretty easy to write (always a good thing), though I'm not entirely sure on all of it. Hopefully there won't be another long break; I kind of want to write something else now, but no guarantees. Lots of stuff to do. Sigh. Also, though I never reply to the reviews (despite intending to...or something), I really appreciate them. (So many parentheses.)


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